


His Maid: (Book 1)

by Rogueangelll



Series: His Maid (Lams) [1]
Category: Alexander Hamilton - Ron Chernow, American Revolution RPF, Hamilton - Miranda, Historical RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - 1920s, Alternate Universe - America, Alternative Universe - FBI, America, American Civil War, American Government is corrupt, Angst, Bipolar Disorder, Civil Rights Movement, Corruption, Depression, Emotional Baggage, Fluff, Gay John Laurens, Gay Sex, Henry Laurens Being an Asshole, Homophobia, I swear, Internalized Homophobia, Internalized Misogyny, LGBTQ Themes, M/M, Male Homosexuality, Mental Instability, Non-Sexual Slavery, Period-Typical Homophobia, Political Parties, Prison, Racism, Slavery, Smut, Sub Alexander Hamilton, Sub John Laurens, This is not a sexual fantasy, Thomas Jefferson Being an Asshole, Top Alexander Hamilton, Top John Laurens, Versatile Alexander Hamilton/John Laurens, Villain Thomas Jefferson, john Laurens is not feminine in this book, union lost the civil war, versatile
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-30
Updated: 2018-07-30
Packaged: 2019-06-18 14:25:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 58
Words: 97,531
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15487839
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rogueangelll/pseuds/Rogueangelll
Summary: The year is 1921.  Come the end of the civil war in 1865, the abolition of slavery failed.  America was forced to condone slavers.  The slaves are strictly convicted criminals from here on out.John Laurens is sold into slavery after being convicted of a felony.  After spending a year in prison, he was sent to work as a slave for the rest of his life.Laurens is bought by the newly risen slave-owner Alexander Hamilton, who was born poor and forced to thrive off of the slave trade to become wealthy.Hamilton often confuses his slaves for friends, so in an agreement with his colleague Thomas Jefferson, he must properly “train” a slave.  In public, Jefferson appears friendly as can be.  But behind closed doors, very few know his cruelty.Laurens accidentally finds himself slowly falling for Hamilton, who keeps trying to maintain distance to avoid breaking Laurens’ heart.The skeletons in his closet from the traumas of his childhood and from prison are a stain on Laurens’ life.  Hamilton, too, has twisted demons he’d rather keep to himself.  He knows better than to keep them suppressed for so long, though.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Just a heads-up, this isn’t sub!Laurens, although it may seem that way at first.
> 
> Also since it’s set in 1921 there’s homophobia and hatred.
> 
> But it’s not normal 1921, oh no, this is a scenario where the union loses the civil war and slavery is legal. Laurens isn’t too happy about that, eh?
> 
> Anyway, just a heads-up, there’s a lot of conflicting ideas and political views. 
> 
> There’s depiction of mental illness as well although it isn’t outright addressed, as this is 1921. (Who doesn’t love the 20’s, though??)
> 
> All shall be explained, promise. And I originally wrote this on Wattpad, though it’s been through months of editing so people who read te original Wattpad version (as the updates came out) will get different scenerios and situations.

_John Laurens was arrested on August 27th, 1920._

_He was sentenced to the death penalty on September 6th, 1920 after a year in prison. He had a year to be sold._

_It was now September 5th, 1921_

• • •

Laurens stood on the auction podium. His heart was pounding. Curly hair that he wasn’t allowed to put up, brown eyes staying glued on the floor. The sharp shadows were cast by the bright light of the auction house on his face, over his defined cheekbones and the freckles across his face, shoulders, arms, and lightly scattered on the rest of his body. Prison put him through hell; he had been hit, starved, and abused. They tried beating him to cure his "mental illness" and to get him to eat. Laurens didn't make friends in prison; not even with other people like him.

He neglected to eat as he did not want to be sold. If he was strong and healthy like he was when he was arrested, he would easily be used for labor. Laurens didn't want that; he answered to nobody. Not even the law, as it were.

After a year in prison, he had no choice. He had to be bought at the auction today, or else tomorrow he was to be hanged for his treasonous crimes to America and her government. Laurens stood there, hands tied and wearing only baggy underwear as slave-owners (mostly men, occasionally with their wives) inspected him. They groped at his jaw and asked him questions indirectly. The auctioneer would answer for Laurens; if Laurens were to talk, he'd be beaten.

But, the beating wasn't always the best for the auctioneers. They didn't sell the bruised apples as often.

Laurens was skinnier than he had ever been in his life. Weaker than he had ever been. He often gave up his food often to other prisoners, whether he believed they deserved it or not.

A few times he tried to hang himself. That, they put in the newspapers. Being the son of a wealthy slave-owner wasn't often overlooked. Alas, he never succeeded. Now was his chance to die— tomorrow, that is, as soon as this auction was over.

Until a man came to him. Laurens vaguely recognized the young face; surely, if reminded of the name, he'd get it.

"Mr. Hamilton, he's far too skinny and disrespectful, you wouldn't want him," the auctioneer reasoned.

Hamilton— that was it. Alexander Hamilton. Hamilton was well-known across the country; suddenly rich, came from nothing. There were tales about how he immigrated to America and how he gained his wealth. How he switched political parties and became an ally of none other than Thomas Jefferson. He couldn't have been older than Laurens himself. Perhaps early twenties.

"Are you sure?" Hamilton raised an eyebrow, taking Laurens’ wrist and examining him. He looked curiously at how Laurens’ ribs were shown and how his cheeks were hollowed. He let go of the hand, Laurens pulling away roughly and glaring.

"Quite sure," the auctioneer said hastily. "He's just horrible. To be executed tomorrow, even. That's how unsellable he is!"

"Put my name down," Hamilton said.

"Pardon me?" Laurens found himself saying nearly in sync with the auctioneer, who cut his eyes to him for speaking.

"Sir, did I stutter? I said, put my name down,"

Laurens felt himself laugh a bit at Hamilton’s humor. He quickly stopped when the auctioneer gritted his teeth and gave him the death glare. Hamilton, however, flashed a knowing smile at him then slowly looked back to the auctioneer, who continued to glare. "Fine,” he grumbled, “How much is your bid?"

Hamilton beckoned the man closer and whispered in his ear. An amount that Laurens did not hear; but the shock on the auctioneer's face was evident enough to show that it was too much for a useless slave such as himself. The minimum bid for a slave had always begun at $100. Nobody else was willing to pay such a large amount of money for him. It was as if the auctioneer was repeatedly attempting to talk him down, make sure he wasn’t to be sold. Laurens pondered on this often and couldn’t help the conclusion that somebody his father was enemies with was pouring generous amounts of dirty money into the pockets of the government to keep it this way.

As Hamilton walked away, he gave Laurens another joyous look. Laurens shook it off; it was odd. He already knew for sure that this is the man he'd be sold to. Nobody else bid.

This was it; his life was over. He suffered a year of prison just to be sold a day before the execution, and he hated it. Death was his ultimate goal. It was so close and so obtainable, yet so suddenly ripped away when a young man just decided to bid on him.

There would be no screwing up after this. No more starving himself or fighting inmates, no more talking back to officers... now, he'd surely have to obey every word of his new owner. If not, his life would be a hundred times worse. There were awful things masters did to their slaves, things that the police and the people turned blind-eyes to. Dark, terrible things. Laurens thought he had seen them all.

• • •

After the auction, Laurens wasn't led back to his cell. He was led to a room where he was stripped and told to wear new clothes. The clothes were clean; a white dress shirt and grey pants. A man tied Laurens’ wrists and led him out to a silver automobile. Laurens was pushed into the back seat, nearly falling over on top of Hamilton.

Hamilton tried to help him situate but the stubborn man refused the offer. So, he simply coaxed his driver to begin the way "home”. Laurens kept quiet, head against the window as he looked out sadly.

"I'm Alexander Hamilton," Hamilton said at last. Laurens didn't look up. "Well? Are you going to answer and tell me your name?"

"I know who you are," Laurens whispered harshly.

"Everybody seems to," Hamilton sighed. "And your name?"

"It matters not."

"Of course it does," he reasoned, his hand moving to Laurens’ knee. The gesture had been intentedly friendly— though, Laurens quickly slapped it away.

"Don't you dare touch me," Laurens snapped. He kept his eyes away from that of his owner's and clenched his jaw. When he was arrested, he promised himself that he wouldn't allow anybody to dehumanize him the way he saw his father and his colleagues dehumanize their slaves. He was stronger than that.

"The auctioneer was right," Hamilton chuckled.

"What about?"

"You don't know when to hold your tongue."

Laurens growled under his breath and said, "Why do you think I haven't been sold?"

“It’s endearing. Humor is all we have in this rotten world, right?”

“Sure,” he kept his jaw set.

"Five minutes are you're already a goddamn pain."

"Don't expect much."

"Watch it," Hamilton said. "I just saved you from death."

"Oh, Mr. Hamilton," he mocked in a high-pitched voice, "I’m oh-so-grateful! Thank you for fucking purchasing me as I'm no more than your damned property," he growled ad talked normally again, "I don't owe you shit."

"I'd hold my tongue if I were you. It's a long drive back to New York."


	2. Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John’s introduction to life as a slave
> 
> The rest of the book is first-person in John’s POV by the way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> John’s POV, first person from here on out.

"Welcome home," Mr. _Alexander Hamilton_ smiled, his hand on my lower back. I kept my eyes down as my teeth grit together.

"This is not my home and it never will be," I growled quietly under my breath. He didn't say anything.

"These are the slave quarters," he tells me, "you will be staying here with five other male slaves. On the other side of the house is the slave quarters for the females. There are three of them. You'll be acquainted, for you will be working in the house, not outside."

"Why?"

"I need more house work done," is all he said. He showed me to the inside of the house, past some guys who were working and sweating in the yard, pushing wheelbarrows to the fields.

"What're they doing?" I asked. Alexander looked out.

"Gardening. We have a garden."

Inside of the house, it was much cooler and it was nicer. There were two women working in the kitchen, chatting away as they cooked.

"Miss Bartow," Alexander addressed one girl. They both ceased their chatter. "This is Theodosia Bartow," he said softly to me.

"Yes, sir?" Theodosia smiled sweetly, setting a pan of bread on the island.  The creases at the corners of her eyes folded up.  She appeared as a worn woman.

"This is... a new maid. I will need you to show him the ropes, please," he says. "He'll be in charge of the upstairs."

"Yes, sir," Theodosia nodded. "Is that all?"

"Yes, for now. I expect him back in the kitchen in a half hour," he looked between Theodosia and I then nodded, walking away. I stood still and Theodosia waved me over to her.

"Afternoon, boy." She smiled kindly.

"How could you be smiling?" I wondered aloud. She shrugged and put a loaf of bread in the oven.

"I'm Miss Bartow, as you know, and that's Sally Hemings. We're the cooks," she told me, taking off the oven mitts and moving to greet me. "What's your name? You look familiar, I swear I have seen you before."

"Does it matter?" I grunt.

"Of course it matters. I'd rather not address you by 'new slave' or 'you, Boy.'  That's just ridiculous. Now, what is your name?"

"John," I sighed. "Laurens."

"Oh, yes, you're the son of that congressman from South Carolina. Mr. Hamilton must have had a train bring him all the way down there, just for the auction! I shan't question his logic, the man in himself is a— don't tell on me for saying this— idiotic genius. The man has secrets, I tell you, and he's quite the odd one. I'll certainly scruple to try to understand him as long as I live, that's for sure."

"Yes, sure, whatever," I mumbled. "Shouldn't we get on with this tour-shit?"

"How moody you are," Sally said with a smirk.

"Follow me, I'll get you some clean clothes to change into after I tour the house to you," Theodosia interrupted.

So, Theodosia dragged me through the house, explaining where to clean and where I was forbidden to go, telling me all about the other slaves, and all about her background and where she came from. Apparently, she was arrested for multiple theft cases— what a pity for her, having to spend the rest of her life catering to society because her husband couldn't just simply get off his ass and work like a goddamn man.

"Mr. Hamilton is cold," she mused, "perhaps cruel as well... but so is every slave-owning wealthy fool. Alas, somehow, he's not the same as all of them. You must know about his life— considering the media coverage. Still, I wouldn't count on him treating you kindly, but here's my advice; do not talk back and do not request anything extra. Be especially kind to guests as well."

"I see I clearly have much to look forward to," I rolled my eyes.

"Oh, it's not that horrible," she told me, "Just do what he asks and you'll be fine. For the most part, he is away for business or on his lonesome and there are rarely any problems between him and his staff. He stays out of our way as long as we stay out of his. Besides, the work that we do... it is not demanding. The several men who work outside do gardening and, Mr. Hamilton has crops and a greenhouse. That is part of how he makes money. He has people hired to sell extra vegetables and whatnot. Then Sally and I also cook with the ingredients, and he feeds all of us quite well. The outdoor housing is nice enough, too. I have never been in the men's housing, but the women's has several bunks and a bathroom, though the bathroom is rather communal. It's practically a bathhouse."

"How about during the winter? Is there heat?"

"Mr. Hamilton has fireplaces all over the house, and two in each of the slaves' quarters. Of course, the men must collect the firewood, but that's a given. There's plenty and he would never let us freeze. I don't know. Perhaps it has something to do with his upbringing— I know he hates the cold, he complains about it all the time. So, in a way, we're more like servants. We provide to him and serve his guests, and in return, he treats us with what one may call kindness... though it's indirect, it could be so much worse. He gives us comforts and necessities for living and stays out of our hair, just so long as we stay out of his. I've never seen him hit a slave."

I just huffed and crossed my arms.

"Who is the other maid?" I asked.

"Her name is Martha Manning, she's quite the sweetheart," Theodosia raised her eyebrows suggestively and I averted my eyes.

"My little sister's name is Martha."

"Lovely." Theodosia lead me back to the kitchen. "Oh, another rule! Don't attempt to steal extra food. Mr. Hamilton has said that quite a few times although I have never seen him punish anybody for it. Or... at all, for that matter. He's odd, as I said. Anyway, there's not a point in stealing food. We get meals, perhaps not fancy meals, but meals at that. Three times a day we eat which is three times more the number of times the slaves over at Jefferson's gets. He feeds them about once a day."

"I can vouch for that," Sally cut in quietly. Theodosia looked at her sadly and sighed.

"Anyway, I feel like you will get along just fine here. Welcome, I suppose."

"Welcome my ass," I growled.

• • •

I waited in the kitchen as Sally and Theodosia cooked and gossiped. Eventually, Alexander came back downstairs. He studied me quickly and approached me before grabbing my wrist gently, coaxing me to follow him. We walked until we came to a room. He showed me inside. I stayed silent.

"This is my bedroom. You will be cleaning it and making the bed in the morning, but other than that, don't touch anything."

"Why not?"

"Because I said so," he said, though the tone wasn't snarky in the slightest. I watched him carefully as he added, "and do not _ever_ go in my office."

"You don't want it cleaned?"

"Just don't go in there. It's my private space for thinking and working."

I could respect that. One less room to clean anyway. And a room I'd look forward to snooping in. Alexander coaxed me back downstairs and out to the kitchen. I followed close behind. When the doorbell rang, Alexander tapped my shoulder with the heel of his hand. "What do you want me to do?" I asked him, eyebrows drawn together.

"Go answer the door. Should be the delivery man with the shipment of fish from town; welcome him in, take him to the icebox in the kitchen. And don't be stupid or coy about it."

"Not stupid."

"You sure act it."

I rolled my eyes and walked through the halls, Alexander nearby. With a smirk, I opened the large French doors. There stood a man with a large net bag swung over his back and a clipboard. He was wearing plebeian clothing, though clearly not a slave. "What is it?"

"I have a shipment," said the man, "for the Hamilton Estate. Tuna fish, twelve pounds iced."

I glanced back at Alexander who slightly nodded. I said, "Come in, then."

The man followed me in with his fish and I passed Alexander. He stepped out naturally. "Tuna shipments, I presume?"

"Yes, Sir," said the man.

"Good. John, show him to the icebox."

Now, this would be funny—I could use some entertainment.  "Why don't you do it yourself?"

Alexander's eyebrows raised. "Excuse you?"

"You heard me."

"Why are you so difficult? Show the delivery man to the kitchen."

"You're right there," I raised my arms, slightly outraged but enjoying Alexander's reaction. "You know your way around the kitchen. It's only my first day as your _slave_ so shouldn't you show me how to do this?"

"Are you dumb? Any fool could show a delivery man into the kitchen."

"Are you dumb?" I mocked, "Any decent human wouldn't purchase human beings as their servants."

Alexander put his hand on my back and coaxed me toward the kitchen, the delivery man following awkwardly. I yanked myself away and marched by Alexander to the kitchen, where Theodosia quickly began to show the delivery man the large icebox in the back. After the transaction, and after Alexander signed several papers, the delivery man left. Alexander grabbed my arm and led me upstairs.

"What are you doing?" I questioned. He pulled me back to his bedroom.

"I have your clothes over here—your _new_ clothes." He walked over to a paneled divider in the corner of the room and picked up some clothes that were swung over it. I furrowed my eyebrows.

"Are you fucking joking?" I snapped.

"Shut it—"

"I am a man!" I told him. "I cannot wear that. For what reason are you punishing me?"

"It is the maid's outfit," he handed me the dress and stockings. "You are a maid, since you clearly cannot behave decently and do mundane tasks, and this is what the other _maids_ wear. Your title of a butler is hereby revoked."

"I never had the title of—"

"Doesn't matter. Maid. You humiliated me so I will humiliate you. Put on the clothes," he said. I looked at him questioningly. "Well, go on! Change into them."

I bit the inside of my cheek and looked back at him.

"Jesus, you're as red as a tomato. Not in front of me. I'll wait, change behind the divider," he told me, nudging me towards the corner of the room.

"I cannot wear this. This is cross-dressing, and I do not—"

"Condone it?" Alexander finished and raised an eyebrow. "Funny, weren't you in an activist group for men who like to dress as women?"

I rolled my eyes. "I support _other_ men. I, myself, am not going to wear a fucking dress. I'd rather walk around nude."

Alexander laughed bitterly. "Do so, then. I'm sure you won't," he paused as I looked at him, then back at the dress, and groaned. "That's what I thought."

I sighed and went behind the panels, stripping down. I reluctantly pulled on the dress, followed by the stockings and the shoes. I pulled my hair back into a ponytail with the black ribbon and put on the apron, tying it around my waist. It felt, at the very least, nice to have my hair out of my face again.

The skirt came up several inches below my knee, the white stockings just above them. The skirt was black, and I wore a white shirt with it. I had the white apron over it. My shoes and hair tie were both black as well. Reluctantly, I move out from behind the dividers. Alexander looked up at me and raised his eyebrows.

"How am I supposed to clean in this outfit?" I growl. "This is ridiculous."

"Martha does it every day," he smirked and crossed his arms.

"Do not compare me to a woman. Women's bodies actually fit in dresses, genius. I'm disgusted. If my father saw this—"

"Oh, yes, because I sure would love to invite your father up from South Carolina for a cup of coffee," Alexander said sarcastically, "perhaps show him around, allow him to see his son— the one he was already quite upset with for his _secret hobbies_ , don't think I don't know about those— in a dress, catering and cleaning like a woman," he paused and scoffed, "I wouldn't do that. That is a ridiculous thing. Nobody of importance shall even see you. You are wearing the damned dress."

"Why? So that I might feel humiliated? Because I do."

"As I said before, _you_ humiliated me. I will not allow that sort of insubordination. You are a reckless, uncaring sort and perhaps if you'd listen to my words then you would be wearing man's clothing."

"I was joking, Hamilton, trying to get a rise out of you!  You can't make me wear this. It's revolting, I am a man and—" I tried to argue but was cut off once again.

"You're a slave. By law, you're not a man," Alexander cocked his eyebrow.

"Do I look like I follow the law? I don't give a shit! Just give me regular clothes to wear!"

"I am not negotiating with you. Anyhow, what's your name? You never did tell me."

"You quite obviously already know who I am," I muttered.

"I wish to hear it from you."

"It's not your business," I said.

"Well, the deed I have stating I own you would say otherwise. I paid a lot of money for you; now tell me, what is your name?"

"Father told me not to give my name to strangers," I answered with faux coy, hands behind my back.

"Oh, I see," he approached me, "you want to play that game, do you?" Alexander grabbed my chin between his thumb and index finger, forcing me to look down at him. "Come, look me in the eyes." I reluctantly looked down. He smirked, "Not so cocky now, are you?"

"Should I be frightened of your physique?  Because I'm not."

He jerked my head back down when I began to look away.

"Give me real clothes and I'll tell you my name," I demanded. Alexander chuckled.

"What did I say before? You are not the one who owns me, as it is the other way around. You are in no position to be uttering negotiations," he said, still holding onto my chin.

Slapping his hand away, I gritted my teeth, "I don't give a fuck. You don't own me. I'm still a person, I won't let you mistreat me like property."

He shook his head at me and got closer, having to stand up on his toes a little to be as tall as me. I almost resorted to laughing at his attempt to overpower me but he grabbed my shoulders roughly, barring his teeth. "I'd watch my mouth if I were you. You won't last long like this. Should you not tell me your name like a grown man, then I will resort to referring to you as 'Slave' until you do. Heed my warnings, consequences will befall you. Far worse than cross-dressing."

"John," I growled. "My name is John."

Alexander let go of his grip on my shoulders and I pulled away scornfully.

"How old are you, John?" he asked curiously.

"Twenty-one," I answered reluctantly. "And how old are you?"

He ignored my question. "Are you lying?"

"No."

"You look eighteen," he tells me. "You're so _skinny_ —"

"I spent a year starving in prison, so yes, I am indeed skinny. As well as I am twenty-one. You should know this, it says my birth year on your little deed," I spat.

"Oh, you're a feisty one, aren't you?" He laughed, "Well, best be on your way. T'was a pleasure meeting you. And John?"

"Hm?"

"Remember who is in charge, here."

"Fuck you," I muttered and shot a glare at him before leaving for real. He heard me, I know—but said nothing.

_Shit._


	3. Work Not for Spoiled Food

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alex continues making threats and being a dick; John continues being pissed about the dress

Alexander Hamilton— what an _asshole_. I don't care that he "owns" me, nobody is going to "own" me. This goddamned _dress_ doesn't mean anything, either. I'll show him that he can't control me, one way or another.

I heard a whistle from a man who was working in the gardens as I walked by, my shoes clicking against the stone pathway that leads to the slave's quarters. I was told to make myself a place to sleep tonight. This stupid skirt— I'm going to end up with my neck in a noose before Alexander could ever strangle me himself.

The quarters were very small and it was hot. I blinked a few times and looked for an empty space. I finally found a bunk that was untouched entirely, so I put my sleeping bag up there. I turned to leave when I bumped into a man who was looking at me, disgusted.

"Hey there, new kid," he smirked at me. I looked down at him. He said, "you _are_ new here, right?"

"Yes," I nodded. "Only an idiot wouldn't be able to know that."

"Fucking queer," he laughed, "you look like a _girl_."

"Well, I am in fact a man. You must be blind if you think for a single second I look like a woman," I tried to push past him but he grabbed my shoulder and pushed me back. "Leave me be, or I'll beat your ass!"

"So, what got you sold? Were you arrested for cross-dressing, bitch?"

"No," I groaned, turning away from him.

"I'm sure the only reason Hamilton bought you was to have sex with you," he snickered. "That man is a sodomite if I've ever seen one."

"Doubt you ever have had the pleasure," I rolled my eyes, "your terminology is lacking, I fear you're uneducated."

"Said the cross-dresser."

"I'll sure look like a damn woman when you're looking at me through two black eyes, asshole," I clenched my fist. "Don't try me."

"Queer—"

"Jesus Christ," I refrained myself. When he grabbed my wrist I whipped my hand back and back-handed him. I finally pulled out of his grasp and ran back into the main house. Sally looked up from her cookbook.

"Are you all right?" Theodosia asked. "Oh, what is it with the dress, by the way?"

I groaned and put my face in my hands, leaning over the counter. Sally put her hand on my shoulder. "Mr. Laurens?"

"The dress is to humiliate me.  That asshole Hamilton didn't like my tone. But, I am fine. I found a bunk, what now?" I said quickly, pushing her hand away.

"Begin cleaning the upstairs, I suppose. The supply closet is right over there," she pointed to a door, "there are dusters and cloths and whatever you may need. If you cannot find something, don't be afraid to ask either Sally or me. But please, do not disturb Mr. Hamilton in his office."

"Got it," I nodded. "I don't want to socialize with that sadistic asshole anyway."

• • •

I dusted the library and I wiped down the shelves and I swept and mopped the floors until my hands were cramping. I knocked gently on his bedroom door to be sure he wasn't in there before going in and making his bed and dusting. I opened the windows and let the breeze come in to air the place out a bit. I swear on it, this man hasn't had his upstairs floors cleaned in years. It's filthy.

Keeping busy helped me calm down. I used to do it quite a bit when I lived with my father; he'd yell at me, of course, since it was the slave's job, but I didn't care. It was a way to detox the pent-up anger and stress in my fists.

On my way out I bumped into Alexander. Welcome back, stress.

"Oh, John—please be sure to wax the floors and halls upstairs tomorrow," he told me. I nodded and went on my way downstairs to put away the supplies.

There's no point in arguing and being rude right now, no matter how pissed I was. It's not his fault that I got myself arrested. And at least he didn't ask in a rude way. _Whatever_. I can respect him as long as he treats me like a human being. And, he's using my actual name when he speaks to me... many slave owners don't do that. Then again, my trial was in the newspaper, so maybe he'd feel weird calling me another name.

I ate dinner with Sally, Theodosia, and Martha— whom I had the pleasure of meeting for the first time today— and I didn't dare mention what happened with the male slave in the housing earlier. I didn't want to brew up trouble on my first day.

Besides, punching him wasn't going to do me any good. I don't need enemies right now. I learned my lesson in prison; being impulsive, as I always have been, is not the answer.

But damn, it's so difficult to control these urges.

When I went back to the housing quarters I got stares from the other men. I took off my shoes, apron, and hair bow before climbing onto my bunk. There were quiet whispers but for the most part, the sweaty men and boys were exhausted and didn't feel like making fun of me tonight. I was tired too and it was difficult to sleep on the hard, wooden bunk.

The next morning, I waited for the rest of the boys to be gone before changing into a different black dress and stockings and then pulling on my "accessories". On my way out, the same guy from yesterday stopped me.

"What do you want?" I hissed.

"Bitch, I didn't say anything to you."

"Jesus Christ. Who the hell are you and why are you harassing me? You're a scrawny, little, pretentious motherfucker, you know that? I slapped you earlier, want me to do it again?"

"Lee, and you're not supposed to be wearing a dress, you whore cross-dresser."

I ignored him and walked down the path to go inside the house.

"Fucking bitch!" he called after me.

I didn't let it bother me too much. He's just another imbecile I'd have to deal with at this stupid place. I just really needed to clean right now to get out my anger before I do something stupid— prison had taught me to stop being so stupid (though that doesn't mean I necessarily learned).

"Good morning!" Sally said. The three girls were already eating breakfast and had saved me a bowl of oatmeal that was still steaming. Once I finished eating I went upstairs to wax the floors—which I had to do manually, not with any kind of mop or whatnot.

I took off my shoes and set them outside of the room before getting down on the floor with the cloth. I waxed and waxed until lunchtime came. By then, I had been going non-stop for hours and I was done with the library. I felt like collapsing on the newly polished wood floor. I hoisted myself off the floor and my arm was caught by Alexander. He held me by the waist and looked at me with a smirk.

"You've done good work thus far," he whispered, nearly a purr. I pulled away from him and glared.

"Oh, wow, aren't you just hilarious? Do you love antagonizing me or something?" I snapped, crossing my arms. Alexander patted me on the head with the thin stack of papers he was holding before going back to his office. As he left, I called, "Am I a dog, now?!" He didn't respond.

I slipped my shoes on and moved the cleaning supplies out of the hallway before running down the grand stairwell to the dining room for lunch.

"Good afternoon," Martha sighed, "lunch is ready."

I nodded and went to the sink to wash the floor wax off my hands. I winced as the warm water hit the bright red blisters that were made after a morning of scrubbing.

The lunch was salad and bread. After lunch, I went back upstairs to resume the floor waxing.

"John," Alexander's sharp voice called to me. I looked up from where I was on my hands and knees in the hallway scrubbing and saw him standing there.

"Yes?"

Alexander looked almost at a loss of words. Perhaps, he wasn't expecting that. "Don't mind my asking, but what did you do for fun before you were arrested?"

"...Does it matter?" I whispered, glaring at the shiny floor. "I don't know, I rode horses I guess. Drank with friends, read, partied, what else?"

"You were wealthy. Do you regret getting arrested?"

"Sure," I mutter and added, under my breath, "I mostly regret not hanging myself before being bought by a freak like you."

He didn't answer— I assumed he didn't hear. I was now in a bad mood, my stomach tightening. I felt, perhaps, a bit sick, but didn't say anything. When I realized he was still standing there, I was made angrier.

"John?" he said again.

I tried to keep my cool, still staring at the floor as I hummed in response.  He waited a few moments before repeating my name as if he hadn't heard me.

"Hello? John," he said slightly louder. My fingers curled into my palms, likely enough to draw blood as I couldn't hold in my temper any longer.

"Oh my God— Are you deaf?" I groaned.

"Is that any way to speak to me?" he asked, grabbing my wrist. I yanked my hand away and stood, backing up. My socks made me slide a bit across the floor. He came closer and grabbed me by the arm again. "All I ask of you is respect."

"Why should I give somebody like you respect?" I hissed, although my current situation was rather dire. Who am I to care about that, though?

"You will respect me," Alexander inched his face closer to mine and growled, "or you will face consequences. And you do not want to be punished, do you?"

"What a vile threat," I rolled my eyes. His grip on my wrist tightened slightly as he glared. "No," I said at last, my face hot with anger. I ground my teeth and clenched my fist. If I had legal rights, I would punch his lights out. Asshole. "No, I don't want you to 'punish' me."

"Good. Now when I say your name, try responding correctly," he let go my wrist and I stumbled back. I yanked my arm towards my body to make it look more like I had pulled away, rather than he had let go. Alexander sighed and then said, "John."

"Yes?" I muttered, still harshly. I didn't look up from the floor. I was humiliated.

"One of my colleagues will be here tomorrow... You will not need to spend the whole day cleaning, rather tend to him and myself throughout the afternoon and evening. Make sure you make yourself presentable in the morning. Wear a clean outfit."

"You said that nobody would see me in this outfit."

"I said nobody important. What is the point of humiliation if the only person to see is me and other slaves? ...So?"

"Yes..." the "s" extended for a few seconds and awkwardly became, "Sir." God, did I want to commit another crime? _Yes_. One worse than anything I've ever done. Murder sounded nice as of right now.

"Oh, and John?"

"Yes?" I inquired.

"If you are disruptive tomorrow there will be twice the hell to pay as opposed to misbehaving now," he glared, "are we understood?"

"Of course, we are," I nodded and smirked, "Joke's on you, though—zero doubled is still zero."

Alexander hid emotion from his stony face. "What, do you _want_ me to give you punishment? I'll have you know that what I tell you is for your own safety. What my colleague does is unknown to the newspapers and it would do you well to behave. So you tell me; do you want me to set you straight, or do you want to find out what our guest has in store for you, should you disobey me?"

"I'll try," I muttered. I hated giving him respect. It made me cringe every time.

"Good." He tapped me on the head, then turned to leave. _Back again with this "dog" shit?_

As he left the room, I hesitantly called after him, "Woof!" To this, he turned back questioningly— I simply rolled my eyes. "Motherfucker."

I let out a bit sigh of relief and held onto my wrist where he had grabbed me, rubbing in circles gently before continuing to wax the floor. I wiped away the angry tears pricking the corners of my eyes and just went on.

It made me so frustrated. I could so easily just kick him in the groin or punch him in the nose, but if I did that, he could kill me. He could actually beat me to death and he wouldn't have any consequences. I'm just property.

That night, the other guys shoved me into a corner and called me names before letting me go to bed. It seemed that the ringmaster was Lee, or, as I had learned, Charles Lee. I had to learn to not let them get to me. I wouldn't survive here being weak.

And I wouldn't survive being me.


	4. Colleague

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alex’s colleague comes to visit; John seriously refrains from shoving his foot up his ass and/or giving him anthrax; Just guys being dudes; three cheers for melodrama

"Who is coming to visit?" Theodosia asked, sweeping up the plate that Sally had just dropped.

"I have no idea. He didn't say. All he said was a colleague," I shrugged.

"Oh my," she began to speak nervously as she bustled around the kitchen, "well, I'd best be getting properly dressed, John! Wouldn't want Mr. Hamilton getting upset, no, that's certainly... not what we want..."she trailed off quietly.

"Theodosia," I inquired, "is there anything I should be worried about?"

"Not at all," she smiled. "Now, go! On your way, now!"

I sighed and went upstairs to the powder room so that I could change my clothes. I didn't want to do it in the slaves quarters anymore in fear of Lee busting in and harassing me again. It took everything in me not to punch him. And if I do punch him, all of the other slaves will team up against me and then I'd have to explain to Alexander why his staff would be lying in a mass-grave— Perhaps that's morbid, but melodrama seems to be a trait of this estate.

I pulled on new stockings and shined my shoes. I washed my hands and face and combed my hair so that it would be out of my eyes when I pulled it back with the bow, though a few curly strands poked out; I retied the apron bow in the bow of my dress and smoothed out the creases. I look presentable, hopefully. Minus the fact that I felt completely out of place in this dress. If I was going to dress like a woman— perhaps a child, male children might still wear frocks, no?— then I might as well try to look as masculine as possible. I studied my hands and the red bumps on my fingertips and palms. They weren't too noticeable but they hurt like a bitch.

I decided to knock on Mr. Hamilton's office door. The rule was to never do that or else he'd get mad and there would be severe punishment. Honestly, in the state I was in, I believed I could handle any sort of punishment. I just wanted something to cover my hands. I could care less how he threatens me. I've been beaten, starved, kicked, yelled at, all of it. It was as if I was numb.

"Ahem," I looked down at him when he answered the door. His eyes read amusement. "Sorry to bother you... I was just hoping that you could supply me with gloves, perhaps? My hands are covered in blisters that don't look too well."  I proceeded to silently curse myself for the poor use of language.

Alexander huffed and grabbed my hands. I held them out so he could have a look. He sighed and let go of them.

"Follow me," he said. I followed him out of the office and into a closet that went off of his bedroom. He dug through some items before handing me a pair of wrist-length, white gloves.

"Wear them when you work, it'll help with the blisters. And wear them when my colleague visits. And do not ever disturb my work again. I am assuming Theodosia neglected to inform you of the consequences."

"No, it is not through her fault, she warned me," I admitted. I didn't want her to get into trouble.

"So you dared to disturb me knowing full and well that it is against my wishes?" he asked, moving closer.

"Yes," I dared to say. I straighten my back to be more intimidating.

It wasn't as if Alexander was taller or stronger than I was, it was just the lawful power he had over me.  He could beat me to death and wouldn't be penalized. I've seen it again and again.  I've seen the weakest, most cowardly of men beat the leaving daylights out of a taller, more muscular slave.  I was already being degraded; by forcing me to wear women's clothing, Alexander was stripping me of my personality.

"...You are getting a free pass. Are you listening?" he asked.

"You're just going to—?"  Alexander looked at me curiously so I finished, "—Let me go, then?"

"Why?  What do you want from me, John?  Do you wish to aggravate me for entertainment?  See how far you can push me before I snap?"

"Perhaps," a smirk crawled onto my face, though I knew inside I was panicking a bit. "I have no other form of entertainment, now, do I?"

"You're pressing buttons and you know it."

"Well, I'm not the only aggravating one."

Alexander gritted his teeth, though I saw something in his eyes. I couldn't quite decipher what it was. Perhaps... no.

"I don't want to have to hurt you."

"Then don't," I whispered. "Simple enough, right?"

"Just stop talking," he muttered. "Hear me?"

"Why?"

"Because, I— I seriously don't want to have a conflict with you. And I can't trust myself. So, please, if you have an ounce of empathy for a man with a poor temper, then you'll shut your mouth."

"...Okay."

"...Good."  He looked as if he wasn't sure what to do with that answer.  "Now go on and finish your chores.  I shall call you when our guest arrives.  Are we in an understanding?" I nodded, my eyes still down.  He pinched my chin between his thumb and index finger, prompting me to look up from the floor where my gaze had been previously fixed. "Look me in the eyes."

I kept my eyes down. It's one of the most difficult things to make eye contact with somebody who you are trying to avoid. "What does it matter if I look you in the eyes or not?"

"It's rude not to make eye contact.  Respect me."

"Why the hell do you think for a second I would respect you?  With you grabbing my chin and wrist, talking to me like I'm property without a brain attached?"

"I said, look me in the eyes, John," his voice was lowered. I groaned, perhaps rolling my eyes slightly, and made eye contact with his eyes of a color that resembled dark maple syrup. Alexander reminded me of a vampire from a book I once read. I couldn't look away.  "Good.  Are we understood?"

"Yes, I understand," I muttered.  He released my wrist and chin.

"Good.  Now go along."

"Right.  I'm a dog, now," I muttered angrily, "at least it's an upgrade from property."

"Of course it is," he shrugged and smirked a little.

"I'd rather be property than your fucking pet."

"Good decision, really.  Now go about your business."

"Fuck you."

Alexander rolled his eyes like the petty bitch he is.  "Fuck you, too, John.  I'm serious, now.  Go."

Growling, I grabbed my wrist from him and turned away, gloves in hand. I dusted and cleaned whatever there was left to clean when I was called to go downstairs. As I slowly went down, I pulled the silky gloves on, muttering angrily to myself. He doesn't fucking control me. Even if he wants to piss me off and try to make me feel weak. The man can smirk all he wants but maybe Theodosia was right— he wouldn't hit me. He doesn't have the balls.

Alexander stood next to a taller man who was wearing a black suit with a magenta tie and handkerchief. I kept my head down. I knew immediately who it was and it made my blood boil. Absolutely fucking boil. Alexander said "nobody of importance" would see me in this damn dress. If one of the most important government figures in America isn't "of importance" enough, then who is?

As I drew closer I saw Jefferson's arm brush against Alexander's.  Alexander retracted immediately, almost nervously, and moved away from him.

"John," Alexander put a hand on my lower back.  I sighed.  "This is my colleague, Mr. Jefferson. Thomas, this is my newest maid."

"Afternoon—" I began, but Jefferson cut me off as if I wasn't even there.  I bit my tongue and seethed.

"John Laurens. How long have you had him?" Jefferson raised an eyebrow.

I am going to punch Alexander after Jefferson leaves. I don't care about whatever happens to me then.

"Just a couple of days," Alexander answers. Jefferson paced slowly around me. He grabbed my chin as though he were inspecting me and he even lifted my arms and touched my sides. I growled a bit and Alexander eventually stopped him, face pale. He looked almost sick. Alexander physically pulled him away and muttered under his breath.

"I assume he's wearing the dress because you still feel bad about—" Jefferson paused, smirking, "having certain desires towards the forbidden fruit, hm? What, did you dress him like this to make him look like a woman?  It isn't working. While he is quite skinny," Jefferson stated, "he is not effeminate.  Still, he can quench your thirst and fill your needs without you having to feel bad.  I don't suppose you bought him to—"

"Thomas," Alexander growled. "That is quite enough."

Jefferson raised his hands defensively and smirked. I fixed my composure a bit, holding my hands clasped behind my back and my feet together. I knew who this man was, everybody did; Thomas Jefferson was said to be against slavery, though everyone knows he owns slaves. Nobody who voted for him even cared about his plantation! The public is a mass of fools, they turn around in fear of the wealthy. And now the man has not only seen me in a dress, but he assumes that Alexander bought me to... "fill his needs"... though that certainly isn't the case.  I think.  If he tries, I will cut his dick off while he sleeps, and that was a promise.  Alexander didn't come across as the type, though, to need a slave to have sex with.  He could probably easily find somebody willing to do so, even a man if he desired.

"John," Alexander mumbled to me, bumping me a bit.

"Right," I muttered.  "Would you like anything to drink?"

"White wine," he answered.  He and Jefferson went and sat in the parlor as I scurried off to the kitchen.  Theodosia was hugging Sally, who looked like she was on the verge of tears.

"Are you all right?" I asked

"Hush," Theodosia responded to me. She let go of Sally and went to the kitchen door, pushing it open just a little bit and peering out into the parlor before quickly closing it. "Yes, it's him," she spoke to Sally.

"Who? Thomas Jefferson?" I probed.  Theodosia said nothing, smoothing Sally's back.  "Why the hell is everybody so afraid of Thomas Jefferson?  Hell, Hamilton looked ill at the sight of him."

"You best get on with their refreshments, John.  I wouldn't keep them waiting."

I nodded and grabbed a silver platter, two clean wine glasses, and a bottle of wine. "He seems to be a nasty motherfucker," I thought aloud as I balanced the items on the platter, "though what could he have done to Hamilton to frighten him?"

Theodosia ignored me.  Groaning, I carefully walked out of the kitchen with the display balancing in my hands. The two men continued to talk as I popped off the cork and began to pour it, my hands quivering in anger.

"What the hell is this?" Jefferson asked, looking at the wine.

"White wine," I told him. Alexander glared at him but Jefferson didn't seem to mind.

"I will not drink that vitiated substance.  Bring me red wine immediately."

"I— you never specified—" I cut myself off, seeing Alexander out of the corner of my eye, his look clearly telling me not to continue.  I sighed, "Right away, Sir." I handed the glass of white wine to Alexander before taking the tray away. I returned with the bottle of red wine and began to pour it into Jefferson's empty glass. My hands began to tremble so much holding the weighty bottle— my hands were also hurting from the blisters— that some splashed over onto Jefferson's lap.

"You worthless sodomite!" Jefferson shouted, startling me and making me drop the bottle of red wine.  It all spilled over the coffee table and onto the (luckily) red carpet. It even knocked over his full glass, sending that shattering onto the floor. Jefferson stood up and grabbed me by my hair, gritting his teeth.  "How dare you?  Clean up that mess at once, you wretched sodomite."

"Thomas—" Alexander began.

"Shut up.  You still do not know how to discipline them properly," Jefferson said to him as I got down on my hands and knees, picking up the shards of glass with my bare hands.  Bare as they were with gloves, of course.  I was so startled by his shouting that I trembled more; I couldn't stop the images of the numerous times I've seen slaves being beaten flooding my head.  It looked so horrible; what if that happened to me?  I've never worried so much for my life, not even in prison or when I got arrested. 

Alexander warned me, goddammit!  He told me specifically not to fuck up and yet here I am, fucking up like the fuck-up mistake I've always been.

"I do in fact know how to discipline them!" he defended himself. "He's been here for a mere few days!"

"I bet every single time he has screwed up, you've threatened to punish him but proceeded to not follow through with your word. You say you're going to beat him, do so!"

"I don't abuse my slaves as you do!" Alexander shouts.  I flinched, dropping some of the glass.

"He is never going to learn if you don't keep your word, Hamilton!  You're an effeminate, weak bitch, and you always have been!  That's why nobody will ever fucking love you!"

"Bitch?!  Do you want to see me be a bitch, Thomas?  Go fuck yourself. 

“Hah! Yet you still won’t do shit about your stupid slave!”

“John, stand up."

"W-what—?" I stuttered, taken off-guard.

"On your feet, now! Stand up!" he screamed. I got up off the floor and set the glass down on the coffee table.  Alexander grabbed me by my ponytail; I shouted a curse in surprise.  Jefferson observed the situation.  Alexander looked me in the eyes and gritted his teeth.  "Go get my whip."

"Your what?! Why the hell do you have a—"

"Whip," he repeated. "It is upstairs in my office.  Go get it."

"Tell me you're joking..." I begged, but Alexander shoved me away and let go of my hair to let me know that he was not joking.

"Go, now!"

I simply nodded.  Jefferson had a look of genuine surprise on his face. Alexander was scowling and looking at his feet as I went up the stairs quickly.  I found his office then eventually his whip.  It was thick braided leather, coiled up and about four feet long. I held it against my chest and suppressed a cry. I looked down at myself; the apron, stockings, and gloves were all now stained with red wine.  Anything that was white had splotches, in the very least, of the red color.

I quickly ran downstairs where Alexander was still standing, body turned away from Jefferson.  I handed him the whip and he put a hand on my shoulder.  I felt like crying out as he unzipped and pulled my dress down off my shoulders.  My back was now exposed.  I shivered a little, sick to my stomach.  Somehow, though, I'd prefer being nude over wearing this damn dress.  Right now was not the time for civil disobedience, however.  I felt his arm wrap around my neck from behind loosely.

"On your knees," he whispered.

"You cannot be serious."

"John," his voice lowered even more to the point where I wasn't sure Jefferson could hear it.  I watched Jefferson glance off towards the kitchen door and as he did so, Alexander murmured by my ear, "Listen to me and I'll protect you."

I pushed away from him but he held my neck tighter.  Jefferson looked back to the scene again with some sort of sadness in his eyes.  I squirmed.

"Please, tell me you're just joking," I turned and grabbed onto his shoulders, pleading with him through my eyes.  I let out a faint whimper, holding tightly on his shoulder and then upper arms still.  "You can do what you please, Mr. Hamilton, you can starve me or slap me or force me to sleep in the yard, but please, don't do this. I spilled wine and it was an accident!" I begged for his mercy, still holding.  Alexander looked past me a bit and at Jefferson.  I felt the hope fade as his sympathy did. Whatever faux sense of security I painted was gone now, all traces left in Alexander's eyes as they grew pained and angry.

"Thomas, perhaps..." Alexander sighed and closed his eyes.  "I don't think to spill wine, it would necessarily warrant..."

"If you go back on your word and show mercy, he'll never learn, Hamilton.  Do you think you ever learned—"

"Fine," he cut him off.  "John, I'm only asking once more.  Get on your knees."

"Mr. Hamilton," I whispered.  We stood in silence for several more moments before he grabbed my wrist.

"I said, get on your knees!" he growled.  "Just do this or it'll be worse for you."

Jefferson continued to watch with a sneer. I saw the kitchen door open just a crack. The dire, helplessness of the situation filled my senses. Alexander Hamilton and Thomas Jefferson—two of the most important men in the government—were about to whip me—and I couldn't do anything about it.

"No!" I shouted at him, twisting to turn away but he grabbed me, his arms wrapping around my body. I yelled against him, writhing in all directions to free myself. As I screamed pleads, I got away, only to be pushed forward by Jefferson. I landed in Alexander's arms, then I pushed away from him quickly. I hit him in the face and stepped on his foot, but he dug his nails into my wrist and forced me to look at him. "Hamilton, n-no!  No, you can't!"

"Get—on—your—knees," he commanded, jaw clenched. I watched his face for a moment. I tried to read his eyes. "Take your punishment like a damn man, Laurens. Remember what I told you earlier," he muttered menacingly.

I sank down to my knees and put my hands on the floor. I felt sick. I can't do this.

"Five," is all Alexander m.uttered

"Please," I felt the last plead fall off of my lips loosely, hopelessly. "Don't do this..."

Then, I felt the first one hit my back and I grunted in pain, tears building up, now.  He stood still after what felt like an eternity before the whip hit me again, though this time it didn't hurt as badly. I've seen owners whip their slaves dozens of times and always tried to empathize with the pain. I never envisioned it severely enough. The third time, it was with even less force than the last two. I heard a heavy breath leave his lips and I panted heavily, trying not to cry. Not in front of Thomas Jefferson and Alexander Hamilton. Not in front of these important men, whom I was only a slave to.

"You're doing it incorrectly," Jefferson growled. I cried from my spot on the floor when I heard him take the whip. He whipped me with ten times the force that Alexander used. I screamed and curled my fingers against the floor. Even the most powerful of men have collapsed under the rich man's whip.

"Thomas," Alexander scolded, sounding concerned. It grew even timider and afraid.  "Stop. Thomas, stop! Stop, you're going to..."

"What?  Hurt him?" Jefferson hissed, and I felt the whip again. I screamed against my arm, biting down on it and curling my fingers against the carpet. "Isn't that the point? To punish?"

"Thomas..."

"Shut up, Alex," he spat, striking me again. I suppressed another scream.

Alexander said nothing so Jefferson continued.

"When is the last time you whipped one of them, huh?" Jefferson struck me again with the whip. "Or the last time you even corrected them?"

The whip hit me again and again. It all hurt far more than when Alexander did it. As if he were angry at me for some reason, a reason I had no liberty to fathom.

I began to whimper a plea for him to stop, but as soon as it began it was choked back, the whip striking me even harder.

"Thomas, that is enough!" Alexander barked. Jefferson struck me one more time before the whip dropped to the floor with a 'plop' sound.

"That's how you do it properly," he huffed.

"You struck him harshly ten times! It was only supposed to be five, and for what?  His spilling of wine?"

"To make up for the times you should have punished him."

"He did nothing to deserve thirteen lashes!  He is not your slave to punish.  I had things under control," Alexander finished. I collapsed fully to the ground, unable to support myself any longer. I began to stifle any sobs that threatened to arise, frozen in place on the carpet. It hurt so badly that I felt paralyzed and numb.

"What happened to you, Hamilton?" Jefferson whispered. "You've changed. Don't go soft on them now."

The way he said "them" startled me. As if we slaves were aliens, or hideous creatures, perhaps. A different species. It was true— we're criminals, some of us worse than others, but we all still have the same fate to be marked as such. There was no escape. And the way Thomas Jefferson uttered that one word—them—gave me chills. A vivid reminder of my father appeared and made my stomach churn.

"He's a fucking slave-sympathizer," Jefferson continued to argue, "he deserves every last whip."

I heard Alexander growl. Then he breathed, "John, get up."

"I-I can't," I groaned. My whole back felt numb. I would move if only I could. It was a helpless feeling, and the fear of being hit again arose inside of me now. I had to get up. Get up, get up, get up! I pleaded with myself. But I couldn't.

Alexander sighed and knelt down next to me. He helped me to my feet. I bit my lip to suppress the noises I made at the pain of my back, of the welts touching my dress.

There was a moment where he looked at me, angry and apologetic, and I couldn't bear to look him in the eyes. I just stared at his lips, still struck with fear and pain and anger. Alexander mouthed something— I couldn't be quite sure as to what he said, but it looked like, "I'm sorry." But... no. He's not sorry.

"Go," he mumbled. I still watched his lips nervously. "Get more wine and then upstairs."

"Y-yes, Sir," I found myself stammering. Stupid, stupid, stupid! Why am I stammering?!

"To my bedroom," he glanced over at Jefferson, "stay there until I return from this... rendezvous of sorts,"

"I—" I choked back the argument and closed my eyes, "Yes, Sir," I turned away and his hand slipped off of my shoulder slowly. I gently made my way to the kitchen where Sally was weeping more than I was. I held back tears well. Theodosia was trying to soothe her.

"Do you need anything, John?" Theodosia asked me unobtrusively. I shook my head. I needed to clean the spillage still.

I went back out of the kitchen, tears still stained to my cheeks and my face still red, and I wiped up the red wine. Every move I made, I felt pain on my back. I swept up the glass beneath their feet. I poured Jefferson a new glass of red wine to which he said 'took you long enough,' and not, 'thank you,' which is what Alexander said when I poured him more white wine.

I slowly made my way to Alexander's bedroom, feeling a tight feeling in my throat again. I closed the door slowly and sunk to the floor in the corner, covering my mouth. When Jefferson leaves the house, what will Alexander do to me...?

I wonder if I could tie a noose with my hair bow...

Right now, I was pleading with God to just give me death. Just as most other slaves had done before me.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Low key sorry 
> 
> But I’m not
> 
> And if this seems like some fetishized fanserive shit, it’s not, and it’ll be explained better later on.


	5. Oh, Coconuts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Burr likes coconuts and he buys them #LikeAnAss

I made a startled noise, looking up from where I sat on the bedroom floor. Alexander closed the door behind him, taking a deep breath with closed eyes. Before I could stand he knelt down next to me. I had only been in the room for about a half hour... that meeting with Jefferson must not have been one that either of them wanted to drag out.

"John," he began softly, sitting next to me. "I am so sorry."

"You said you didn't want to hurt me," I muttered, looking at the floor.

"I didn't, I simply... Thomas, he... that was not supposed to happen... your punishment should not have been so severe and I apologize for my colleague's behavior. I solemnly ensure that a state such as that shall not be recreated," he told me.

"Theodosia said you don't hit your slaves."

"I— I don't. I don't abuse my servants. My slaves have done nothing to deserve being beaten, I wouldn't. And I shouldn't. And what happened with Jefferson, I'm sorry, it hurt you unnecessarily."

"It didn't hurt," I whispered. "I'm fine."

"I'm not a fool— you were screaming and— crying. I'm sure it was unbearable and I'm sorry that you had to... never mind it, just..."

"Just, what?"

"Just, I didn't intend for that to happen at all, and I'm sorry that you had to deal with it. I lose my temper occasionally, yes, but Thomas—he is just so much worse. He is angry. Now if I could have done something to stop him, I would. If I could have..."

"You could have," I said. "I'm your slave. Not his. He has no legal power over me."

Alexander glanced to the side of the room, as if trying to focus on something else, and sighed.

"You're right. I-I could have fought him off, or told him to stop, or..."

"Then why?" I growled, "Why did you let him relentlessly beat me when there was no need? I'm not Thomas Jefferson's fucking slave and as much as I hate being here, at least I can admit that I'm glad you're not him,"

"I'm sorry," he repeated. I felt his hand brush over mine and I jerked away, glaring.

"Don't. I don't need your apologies or your 'kindness'. Fuck you," I muttered as I stood, hiding the fact that I winced at the pain of my back. Alexander quickly stood as well and reached out, whispering:

"There's blood."

"So?"

"Let me help you. Please, I owe it to you."

"You don't— owe me— shit," I hissed, annunciating every word carefully through a clenched jaw. "I am fine."

"It wasn't supposed to happen like that, John," he whispered.

"Is that all? You allowed this to happen.  I don't need you to fix it.  You can't fix it."

"I'm sorry."

"Fuck you."

With that, I left.

• • •

A week passed. It was odd with Alexander. He was rather aloof most of the time, yet sometimes he seemed to want to distract me from my work for the purpose of amusement. Although there was a period, several days, in which he didn't say a word to anybody and stayed in his bedroom or office. Sally brought him food and he rarely uttered a word. He was never working in his office, she said, he was sitting at his desk with an empty glare in his eyes.

I approached him once. I knocked on his office door several times and he never answered, so I opened it myself. I don't know why I was doing this. I just didn't want him to be angry, and perhaps my checking in on him would make him less angry. Or he could take the anger out on me instead of one of the other slaves. At least I know I can take it.

"Mr. Hamilton," I began slowly as I approached him. "Hamilton?" I put a hand on his chair and moved to face him, "...Are you all right?"

He didn't answer. He blinked a few times and then nodded, looking back down and beginning to type on his typewriter. I stayed for a moment to see what it was that he was typing, but it all looked like jargon to me. Alexander was writing about— from the best of my knowledge— banks and finances. So I asked again. "Are you sure? I could bring you some tea if you'd like—"

"Go, John. Just leave," Alexander spoke suddenly, startling my hand away from his chair. I nodded.

"I will," I said slowly.

I left his office and didn't return, until one day he was suddenly fine again.

I was getting harassed still by the other men who worked outside. I still didn't know why Sally was so upset about the situation with Jefferson; Martha looked like she wanted to tell me but didn't. I assumed she had had a bad experience with him as I did. That pained me, though, because Sally was so young. She was only fifteen right now.

And another thing that worried me is that Alexander would always call her up to his office alone for long periods of time. Every time she reassured it was fine but looked like she was going to cry. She didn't tell us what Alexander did to her when nobody was looking. This made me more wary of him. I had never truly been afraid of anyone in my lifetime. I had never obeyed somebody's every command as I did Alexander's. While his commands weren't out of the ordinary— clean this, dust that, wax the floor, etc, etc— I still listened. I had to. The thought of being whipped again wouldn't leave, especially every time I changed or showered and saw the welts, or felt them as the cold water hit my back; and when the other men would point them out, sneering or startled, sometimes pitiably. I just obeyed Alexander, even though a part of me knew he himself wouldn't have the guts to hurt me.

Not even when I was in prison did I obey. That's why I was in solitary confinement often; since they couldn't beat me nor starve me, as that would make me practically unsellable, they took away my sanity. Still, I was insubordinate. I attempted to starve myself in order to be sent to the gallows rather than to be sold; death was a much better option than letting them take away who I was as a human, as a man. And yet, here I am.

One day, Alexander called me downstairs. I was hesitant but put away the cleaning supplies and went down.

"Mr. Burr," Alexander introduced a man to me, "this is John Laurens, my new servant."

Burr said nothing. He nodded to me and went to sit with Alexander on the sofas. I was careful not the screw up this time.

"Mr. Burr," I cleared my throat, "should I get you something to drink?"

"I'll take a coconut martini, please," he told me.

"Uh—?"

"Theodosia knows how to make it, ask her," he told me before continuing to talk to Alexander about some sort of political thing. I had fallen out of politics in the year that I was in prison. No newspaper for us incarcerated.

"Coconut martini?" I asked Theodosia. She was mixing drinks.

"I'm already on it, John," she smiled. Her cheeks were rosy red. "A—" she paused a moment cleared her throat after stammering, "Mr. Burr requests the same drink every time."

"How do you know how to make those?" I asked. I had only seen them made at bars and fancy dinner parties.

"He taught me," she shrugged and blushed harder. Sally giggled and she rolled her eyes. I grabbed the white wine out of the alcohol cupboard as that's what Alexander requests all the time. I brought the coconut martini and the wine out. It was a much more collected situation— Burr wasn't yelling at me and whipping me like Jefferson, so that's a gratuity.

"Thank you," Mr. Burr said as he took the martini, "tell Theodosia that I said thank you."

"I will," I nodded as I poured Alexander's wine.

I went back into the kitchen and smirked at Theodosia.

"So, what is the deal with Mr. Burr?" I asked quietly. She blushed and averted her eyes.

"Nothing, why?"

"Oh come on. It's all right," I laughed.

"I'm sorry, but I'm afraid it's unlawful," she said sadly.

"What do you mean?"

"I'm a slave and he's married. It'd never work out," she sighed.

"Well, if you love him, why don't you go for it?"

"Complications," Theodosia shook her head. She looked up again and smiled as usual, "Well, there's no use in moping around! We have cakes to bake!"

"Cakes? What for?" I asked.

"Mr. Hamilton is holding a party tonight, didn't he say a word to you?" Sally asked. She was kneading some dough. She made a side-comment to Theodosia, "I'm going to throw this bread in the oven, then begin the cake batter."

"No," I said, "I am assuming I will have to cater?"

"That is what I am assuming as well," Theodosia said. "Well, as long as you don't have chores and as long as you don't need to provide to the master at the moment, why don't you help us bake?"

"Bake?" I laughed, "Hardly sounds like a bright idea,"

"Oh, you'll be fine," she giggled, "I'll teach you."

"Well... okay," I sighed. I had nothing better to do anyhow. Baking had always been something I wanted to learn... back when my mother was alive, she used to bake. I never was taught because I wasn't a woman and we had slaves to bake for us, anyway. So this opportunity was perhaps good.


	6. Party

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Drop that beat; And Peggy; Alcohol sucks

"Who are you?" A girl in a shimmering silver gown asked me. She was so familiar. She looked drunk, too, as she wrapped her arm around my shoulders and giggled.

"John. I am a slave," I said. She looked upon me knowingly.

“John Laurens?” she asked. I nodded slowly and her voice lowered, “I read about your trial. Alex been treating you kindly?"

"More or less," I said slowly.

"Good," she sighed, "he's like a brother to me, I would hate to have to slap him again."

“Again?” I laughed. “I’m sorry, Miss, who are you?” I asked and paused, “You look familiar.”

"I'm Peggy," she told me. "Peggy Schuyler. I'm sure you've met my sisters, Elizabeth and Angelica. Everybody always meets them before they meet me. I can live with that, you know? No, shit, I forgot! They're in... um... London?"

"Are you alright?" I asked her. “...London? You don’t sound so sure.”

"I'm fine. Just got a little too much wine in my body," she giggled, "and a couple of martinis."

She galavanted off and waved to me, taking a glass of wine from my tray before doing so. I continued to bustle around the mansion with a tray of drinks. I barely saw Alexander all night.

The party was too loud for me and quite annoying. Peggy kept following me around the whole night.

Sometime after midnight, I was told to go back to the slaves quarters. When I got there, Lee happened to be awake.

"Hey, pretty boy," he snickered, "did you flirt with lots of men at the ball, you fucking harlot?"

I disregarded him and went to bed.

In the morning I went back to the mansion. I'd have a lot of cleaning to do after the party. Great. I began working upstairs when I felt somebody behind me.

"Mr. Hamilton," I stammered, turning around, "I didn't see you there."

"John," he said. "I didn't mean to startle you,"

"It's alright," I answered haltingly. “John, do you ever dream?” he laughed lightly. “‘Cause I don’t normally dream but damn, lately, I can’t stop dreamin’... wannin’ta touch the stars, y’know? Just... feel the galaxy...” “Are... are you alright?” I asked. He didn't move, he just stayed there, too close. I tried to take a step back and he grabbed my wrist, yanking me towards him. "Mr. Hamilton, please, I really should get back to work," I muttered.

"Are you sure, John?" He leaned in close, his lips almost touching my ear. I worked to draw off of him. “I also dream about you... about your body, what it must feel like... to have you touch me, make me feel so good...”

"What?! Stop that, I— I have to be cleaning," I scolded. His lips brushed against the nape of my neck and I yelped, not used to contact like this. I quickly twisted away. "Don't do that," I ridiculed sharply. Alexander seemed startled.

"Saying no to me?" he asked, stepping closer. I was backed against the wall and his hands found mine as he pinned them above my head. He used his other hand to tug on my hair, pulling so that my neck was fully exposed. I whimpered as his lips grazed my neck. "Naughty, insubordinate man~ you know you're not allowed to disobey..."

I felt frozen in place, unsure what to do. If I push him off of me, he would just grab me again and continue. Maybe hit me or threaten to even whip me. But if I let him do this... I am submitting. And I cannot allow that.

He flipped us around, leaning back against the wall and grabbing me by the waist. He yanked my body close to his so I was practically pinning him against the wall. When his lips hovered over mine I smelled the alcohol. I couldn't tell if that made things graver or better. He's more stubborn if he's drunk but on the flip side, he isn't really checking what he is doing.

No, it’s worse.

Alexander tugged on my hair bow and pulled it out. I quickly grabbed it from him as he stretched his hands behind me to free my dress. "Let me see your body, John~" he hummed, lips still on my neck as his hands moved under my skirt and over my thighs. “I’m sure you’re quite handsome underneath this pesky clothing, hm? See if you feel the same way you do in my dreams...”

I grabbed his hands quickly, pinning them above his head without a second thought. I panicked and kept him there as he laughed lightly, eyes half-closed, and leaned forward. His hips pressed against mine. I could tell he was trying to kiss me, grind on me. My hands slipped from his wrists unintentionally in shock. Alexander put his lips to my neck and grabbed the back of my thighs. He began to slid his hands up.

"Get the hell off of me!" I shouted, not able to hold back any longer. I shoved him away from me and he stumbled back drunkenly. His eyes filled with desire and violence as he moved towards me again.

“John...“

Suddenly, an idea came to me.

I grabbed his arm, “M-Mr. Hamilton, we shouldn’t do this is the public of the hallway,” I whispered as he stumbled, groping at me as we walked, “what if somebody were to see?” We stopped at his office and I coaxed him in. When Alexander laid down on his stomach, he began to pull me towards the sofa, eyes pleading for me to stay. “Please, don’t leave yet, I long for your touch,” he whimpered. “I will, Sir, I will be right back. Just let me put away the cleaning supplies and I’ll— let you see my body,” I assured him. I then left him on the sofa, his eyes half-closed as he mumbled for me to return quickly. I closed the door and sighed in relief in the hall.

Fortunately, he seemed to forget about our encounter as he didn't come back for a while. Perfect.

He didn't bother me anymore that day, except for an obscene gesture he made when he was back in the hallway. I was afraid that he was back to try to get me in his office, but he didn’t mention it. He was holding a bottle of rum in his hand as he let his hands grope my ass, coming up behind me. I didn't say anything, not wanting to make him upset. I twisted away, however, and continued working.

"You look so nasty in that dress~," he purred at that one point, "why don't you take it off?"

"Later," I told him, “tonight.” He seemed satisfied with the answer so he went to his office again, not coming out for the rest of the evening. If I held it off until he was sober again, I would be safe.

I thought that, after he was in his office, I heard him crying. Though I wasn’t quite sure what it was. Crying, laughing, I didn’t care. I couldn’t feel sympathy for somebody who just tried to force me into sexual relations.

In the evening, skipping dinner, I quickly went back to the slave quarters.

I expected him to be angry about my denial for sex when he yelled at me that morning, but in reality Alexander was just complaining about the fact that it was still messy and how his head hurts and how he didn't pay over five thousand dollars, (not sure if that was a true amount) to have a maid who didn't clean. He threatened to whip me again but in the end, he didn't follow through, thankfully. There was a tremor in my hand from the anxiety induced by whipping.

I continued to breathe after he retreated to his office. Alexander didn't acknowledge the fact that he tried to force me to have sex with him yesterday. After a while of scrubbing, the demons hadn't yet left my mind. I resolved to inquire of it.

"Mr. Hamilton," I knocked on his office door. I felt overly confident; why? Perhaps it was the adrenal boost of shoving him away and telling him off yesterday; of being so clever as to get him away.

"Goddammit, John," he groaned, opening the door, "What is it you require? You know I am occupied. You are not entitled to be obstructing my work."

"No, I know," I said quickly, “Sorry.” “...so? What did you want?” "I just wanted to ask about yesterday."

"Yesterday? What of it?"

"When you were drunk, you..." I trailed off, "Do you not remember?"

"No. I have the worst black-out episodes, John, now tell me what I did that you felt the need to interfere with my work for," he stated pointedly.

"Uh," I searched for an answer, "never mind, it doesn't matter."

"John," he grabbed my hand but I immediately ripped it away. I backed up and chuckled awkwardly. "John? What, did I say something when I was drunk that upset you?" He squinted his eyes and stepped towards me, reaching his hand out.

"Don't touch me," I snapped. Alexander looked shocked. He opened his mouth to speak and looked at a loss for words.

“I’m not— what? What happened?”

“Nothing, never mind.”

“No, tell me.”

“No! Drop the matter, alright?”

“John, I need to know. I-I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

“Go fuck yourself!”

"I— I recommend you go clean," he said finally, "I am not going to pry any longer and I'd rather you not say something you'll regret."

"Fine," I said quickly and turned away. After a second his door closed and I sunk down to the hallway floor for a moment, trying to regain my breath and not cry. Everything was just too much for me right now. I was so angry and frustrated and I didn’t want to be here.

At lunch, I spoke to Martha privately.

"Does Hamilton ever day-drink?" I asked her quietly.

"Sometimes. Why? Has he muddled yet again?" she asked and sighed, “The man is somewhat of an alcoholic. He's... very sad. Frequently. Many of us slaves sometimes even worry of him...”

"What is it?"

"Well, from what I've heard, he's expressed some self-destructive tendencies. He cries frequently, but never in front of people. I've heard it in his office, though. And he... God, it's complicated. But he seems afraid a lot. Never mind. Was he day-drinking?"

"Yesterday. Has he ever, um, been violent? Or sexual?"

"Not that I know of. It's not really in his nature, per say. He tends to spend his time working rather than beating or having relations with his slaves..." she said calmly, "Why? Did something happen?"

"No," I said sternly. "Nothing happened. I was simply curious. He was in his office all day yesterday though I saw him with rum at one point so I had assumed. Simply wanted to know, is all," I smiled.

"Okay," she spoke carefully. I hope she bought the lie. I didn't want any of the other slaves to know that Alexander wanted me in a sexual way. It was embarrassing. Men pursuing other men was a matter enough to get somebody shamed, cast out, beaten, and even imprisoned. Especially since I was dressed like a girl, yet stripped of my rights. Besides, they'd just tease me more, and I really can't deal with that right now. I didn't want people to see my weakness.


	7. Bandages

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shit goes down; Why is Alex so on/off?

“Do you like cake?”

I looked up, startled, to see Alexander standing in the doorway. I leaned the mop against the wall cautiously.

“Why do you ask?” I whispered, eyes burning holes into the floor.

Alexander motioned for me to follow him as he turned back into his office. I held my breath and slowly went in behind him.

“Mr. Hamilton,” I cleared my throat, self-consciously glancing at the dress I wore and scowling.

“There was cake leftover from the party the other night and Sally brought me a slice,” he explained, taking a small dessert plate with a single slice of red velvet cake, “I’m not hungry.”

“I— I can’t,” I said. “I can’t accept that, I’m sorry.”

“Why not? It’s my way of apologizing, I beg of you, accept it.”

“Apologizing? Apologizing for what?”

“For,” he paused, looking down at the cake and holding it out to me, “being cruel, and with Jefferson, I— had no intentions whatsoever to bring pain upon you, John. And for whatever happened when I was drunk, which I still don't remember, but I’m sorry.”

I scoffed and shook my head. “You whipped me. And you now expect me to accept your apology with— with cake! Cake,” I repeated softly. I watched the way his hand trembled with the slice.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered.

“No... you’re not,” I shook my head, backing up slightly.

“Please, eat the cake. Just— you might not believe that I’m sorry— I really am— but accept the gift.”

“No.”

“Please, John, I’m begging you,” he reached out, his free hand touching mine. I flinched as he took my wrist and brought it up to the dish, having me take it.

“No,” I repeated gently as he pretty much forced it into my hands.

“I just want you to eat,” Alexander whispered. “Eat it.”

I swallowed hard and took the plate, picking up the fork warily. He watched me as I slowly and awkwardly took a small bite. And then another. It was a good cake, no doubt, but the thoughts of the whipping, the drunkenness, the control... it was getting to me. I tried eating as quickly as possible to get it over with.

“Why don’t you believe that I’m sorry?” Alexander asked. It caught me off-guard— I swallowed the piece that was in my mouth and gripped the fork tightly in my hand.

“I can’t believe it when you—” I paused and swallowed the cake in my mouth, “have so much power over me. Over my life, who I am, I’m just an object! You don’t need to apologize!”

“But you are a human!” he argued. “I’m not apologizing because I have to, so doesn’t that mean it’s real? If I don’t have to, John, then why would I?”

“You want something,” I growled through grit teeth. “You’re only trying to play nice because you want something.”

“What the hell do I want?!” he asked. His voice was raised and he stepped forward again, reaching for me. I reacted on impulse and dropped the plate, holding the cake knife up. The plate smashed against the wood floor, the fork clattering with it.

“Don’t touch me!” I yelled, backing up and holding the shiny silver knife as it trembled in my hand, “Don’t touch me, you goddamn know what you want, you know! Don’t even take another fucking step!”

“John, put that down!” he shouted, a hint of fear flickering in his eyes. He put both hands out defensively in front of him, backing up. Alexander’s voice lowered, “Just, put it away, please...”

“What?! What, are you scared now?” I growled, backing into the wall, “How does it feel to be scared, huh?”

"John, please,” he begged. “I’m sorry.”

“Stop saying that!” I shouted. “You’re not sorry!”

Alexander came toward me. I slowly slid down the wall and threw the knife down, burying my face in my hands. I heard clutter as Alexander dove down, grabbed the knife, and stood back up quickly. I glanced up at him and felt the tears building, thus manifesting the pain into my throat, tightening. I sucked in a breath. He backed up and set the knife on his desk before going to kneel back by me.

“Don’t touch me,” I whispered. Alexander’s hand stayed hovering above my shoulder before it retracted again.

“You need to leave, John,” he muttered, still on the floor next to me. “Go. Just— go back to the slave’s quarters.”

“It’s midday,” I weakly argued, shifting away from him a bit and taking a deep breath with my eyes closed.

“Go. Please.”

So, I stood. I tried not to look back, ending up with a glance at Alexander instead. He was still on the floor, holding his face in his hands.

I turned the corner to the library, swiping a book about Greek mythology before rushing downstairs. I ran through the foyer, then to the kitchen. I ignored the women and marched with the book under my apron, being sure to conceal it. I went outside past the other slaves, going as fast as possible. I don’t need Charles Lee stopping me again or somebody seeing that I stole a book (or that I looked like I was falling apart).

There was a tree around the side of the house that looked undisturbed so that’s where I chose to finally sit down. Though no matter how hard I tried to focus on reading, my mind kept wandering to Alexander.

Why the hell did he not punish me for holding a knife to him?

The next morning, I returned the book after showering in the cold water of the slaves’ quarters. Alexander stayed in his office and didn’t talk to me.

At one point, Sally was busy and had me bring him his lunch. Just being in the same room again made me nauseous— the way Alexander sat there typing away on his typewriter, as if everything was so normal! What nerve did he have?

“Lunch,” I muttered, setting the plate down on the coffee table. “Mr. Hamilton.”

“Yes, thank you,” he replied distantly. I lingered for a few more moments. Just as I was about to leave, he turned in his seat and looked up at me. Goddamn, those brown eyes. There were bags under them from obvious sleep deprivation, which also made his long eyelashes droop with his upper eyelid. What other words to describe this horrible man than ‘beautiful’?

A goddamned, imperfectly beautiful mess.

“John?”

I blinked and snapped out of it. “Wha— Yes?”

“Is there something else you wanted?” he whispered. I just now realized that he was standing in front of me curiously. I quickly cleared my throat and wiped the wonder off of my face.

“No,” I replied sharply, “I was waiting to see if you needed anything more, that is all.”

“Oh, right. You may leave now, John.”

I nodded and turned to leave. I kept my eyes down.

Alexander could have punished me for threatening him yesterday. Yet, he didn’t. He could have done terrible things to me and yet he didn’t do so much as lecture me.

I suppose now I have the opportunity to push my luck with him.

• • •

"Where would those be, sir?" I asked quietly.

"The gardening shed out back. Go quickly," Alexander told me. So I was off to go outside and fetch him the trimmers for the rose bush out front. It was the one thing I supposed he did with his own two hands, that and grabbing my chin and breathing on my face. He seemed to enjoy doing that.

I finally found the small scissor-like trimmers when a figure blocked the doorway.

"Look at you, all dolled up," Lee smirked, pushing me against the shed wall. I yelped out, my back still hurting from the bruises left when I was whipped. "Fucking cross-dressing whore. Bet your mother was a whore too."

"Leave me alone!" I hissed, punching him in the nose. After screaming, clutching his face, he pushed me to the dirty shed floor and grabbed the real hedge trimmers off the shed wall where they were hung up.

"Shut the hell up, you asshole," he spat. Lee pulled up my dress and pressed the sharp end of the hedge trimmers to my thigh. I spit into his face and he shouted at me, dragging the blade across my thigh as I screamed. "You tell anybody about this, I'll do the same to your neck," he hissed, running the blade over the same spot, making the cut deeper. I cried out and finally found a way to push him off of me. I punched him in the nose to get away, kicking him in the knee as well, making him buckle and fall.

I burst out of the shed hyperventilating, though not crying, when a group of other guys stopped me. They started calling me names as I fought against them, shoving me between them, laughing. My back was on fire. That was my real weak link.

"Fuck you all!" I screamed, pushing away as they surrounded me in a circle. I ripped my hair out of the bow and threw my shoes off, then my stockings. I began to unzip the dress. "I'm not a fucking whore! I'm not a cross-dresser! Do you think I have a choice?!" I screamed. They all looked at me in surprise and amusement. "Fuck you. None of us want to be here!"

"Fucking little pet," one man with light skin growled, shoving me down into the mud. I shouted in pain and reached around for my back.

"What is the meaning of this?!" I heard a voice boom as I was shoved to the ground, the skirt riding up and exposing my upper thigh where blood seeped out of the deep wound. "What the hell?!" Alexander knelt down to me. I evaded his hand and stood up myself. He tried to help me again.

"Fuck off!" I hissed. He grabbed my hand and I cried out, "Get the fuck away from me!"

Alexander hit me across the face with an open palm. I stumbled backward and clung onto my cheek, not saying another word as I stood there in shock. It didn't hurt, really, but damn. The pain, at least, felt like a pinch compared to the blood rushing down my leg, my back being both exposed as the dressed was unzipped halfway and on fire from being shoved in the mud, with blood trickling from my nose and lip from being punched repeatedly.

"Don't ever talk to me like that again," Alexander muttered angrily before grabbing my wrist and yanking me inside the house as the other slaves around me watched. He brought me to the kitchen and told the women to leave. Theodosia looked at me sadly, regretfully, as she left. I wanted to cry but refused to give Alexander the satisfaction of hurting me again.

"Sit up there," he commanded. I looked at him with disgust. "Fucking sit on the counter, John. Now."

“Why?”

“Sit. You need to be cleaned up immediately or the cut could get infected.”

“...I’m not a dog,” I muttered, though I obeyed. I could die from infection.

I wanted to disrespect him but was very afraid of what he may do to me. So, I sat on the countertop and pushed my skirt down. This dumb humiliating skirt that he made me wear. I was only wearing the half-zipped dress and underwear, my hair falling messily and caked with mud, my legs exposed and dirty up to my knees, pretty much. I glanced out the window and best I could see— Theodosia was out there, picking up the garments I had taken off. The other slaves pretended to work.

Alexander left the room and returned with a washcloth, rubbing alcohol, and some gauze. I looked down at my feet which dangled a several inches above the kitchen tile.

"Here," he started to lift up my skirt but I slapped his hand away. Alexander sighed slightly and grabbed my hand away from my dress.

"Don't touch me," I muttered. He groaned and held adamantly onto my wrist as I pushed weakly to get away. I gave up eventually and he glared at me. I was wary of him hurting me again; the thoughts of what had happened with Jefferson didn't leave my mind. Knowing that he could do this to me, where I was caught without human rights?— It terrified me. I never used to be so afraid of pain. Hell, even now, my face was beaten in and my thigh was cut open, and I wasn’t even crying.

Alexander lifted my skirt up and I bit my tongue. I knew he was only trying to help, but I didn't like it.

He pressed the washcloth to the large gash that ran down my thigh. I winced at the stinging as he held it there, his other hand on my hip to hold me still.

Then, Alexander took the cloth away and began cleaning it with rubbing alcohol. I groaned at the immense pain and grabbed onto his shoulders to brace myself. “Stop— shit, t-that hurts,” I grunted, fingernails digging into his shoulders. He hushed me and told me to calm down.

After he was done cleaning the wound, Alexander lifted my leg up a bit to wrap the gauze around it. I winced when he held onto my face and wiped blood and dirt away. He set the cloth down and cupped my cheeks, having me look at him in the eyes.

"Hey, can you just tell me how the hell this happened?” he said slowly.

"It was nothing, I got into a fight," is all I said. He didn't look like he believed me so I went on, "I started the fight. They just got the best of me, I was outnumbered."

"I don't believe you. How'd you get the cut? Tell me."

"No," I grunted, shaking my head.

"I asked you a question," he stated, putting his hand under my skirt again and over my thigh where the gauze was. "Answer it."

"No," I repeated. I couldn't tell him. Those men would end up killing me. I've seen it so many times, where slaves gang up on another slave; not even necessarily a physically weaker slave, just somebody of which they did not like. Being imprisoned makes people go crazy.

"John," he put a little pressure on my thigh where the cut was and I grunted painfully. "Tell me."

“Why the fuck do you care?! We’re n-not friends, you’re a slave-owner! I’m your fucking slave!”

“Just tell me!” he shouted defensively.

I was adamant in keeping my mouth shut, though, so I just grit my teeth as he pressed down harder onto the wound. But I cried out in pain suddenly, pushing on his shoulder to pry him off of me. I kicked my leg up and tried to kick him in the groin but he held my legs down and wouldn't let me move.

"Get the fuck off of me!" I shouted, working my knee up to kick him in the stomach. He winced and dug his nails into my wrist from where he held it, and his other hand pushed harder into my wound. My only free hand was wrapped around him, scratching at his back. I had my forehead pressed against his shoulder as I held back shouts of pain.

"I don't want to have to hurt you. Just tell me now and I'll take my hand off of your thigh," he pressed even harder.

"Fuck! Y-You'll be angry—!" I said quickly, stammering. He stopped the immense pressure but kept his hand there under my skirt. I felt it on my bare thigh with the bandages and bit the inside of my cheek, breathing heavily.

"I won't hurt you for what happened, John. I will if you don't tell me. How did this happen?" He pushed three fingers on the bandages again.

"It was L-Lee," I admitted through a stammer, "he held me d-down and used the hedge t-trimmers. Ah— Shit! Shit, stop!"

Alexander pulled his hand from my skirt and growled under his breath. Exhausted, I leaned against him and groaned out. He let go of me and turned to leave but I grabbed his arm.

“Don’t,” I commanded. He looked at me like I was an alien. I went on, “You cannot— don’t punish him, p-please...”

“What?! He just cut your leg open!” Alexander argued. My grip on his arm tightened.

"Wait, please, he said he'd kill me if I tell you," I begged him. He glared and pulled his arm away from me. "You don't understand!"

"I understand perfectly well," Alexander answered.

"No! Those men will be after me if you do anything! As if I'm not targeted enough as it is! Please, please, stop!” I begged, getting off the counter and falling to my knees as I grabbed onto his hand. I was groveling before him, not caring about how I looked. I just needed to make sure he didn’t do anything.

"Go upstairs, John," he commanded.

"No, you don't get it! Do you not comprehend slave life—?"

"Listen to me. Upstairs."

I huffed a bit, "I will clean this house a million times over, just don’t punish—"

"To my bedroom. Stay there and don’t come out. Don’t look out the windows. Do you trust me?" "Not really—" "Just go, now," he commanded before storming out of the kitchen and outside to the gardens. I sat there, realizing what had just happened, and picked myself off of the kitchen floor. I felt my face go warm and I scurried upstairs as he had asked.

I found his bedroom and went in, closing the door behind me and sliding to the floor. Stupid me and all my stupid feelings. I feel useless and dehumanized; dressed like a woman, forced to obey his every word. Yes sir, no sir, it was as if I barely spoke English!

I tried peeking out the window to see where he was but I quickly closed the curtain after I saw another slave looking up at me. Next to him, I saw Alexander beating Lee. I winced but also felt a bit happy at the knowledge that that asshole was getting what he deserved. Then I quickly hit myself for having such crude thoughts.

I clenched my fist and stopped myself from swinging at the wall. I couldn't do something like that here. I just tried to keep my breathing calm as I sat carefully on the bed. It was very soft compared to my bed. My bed was more like a sleeping bag on top of wood, while his bed was like touching a cloud, reminding me of the comfort of my home in South Carolina. I wiped at my nose again, the small amount of blood wiping off on my arm as I huffed and put my hand back down.

I was so indulged in the comfort of his bed that I laid back, my feet over the side of the bed. The silky red and gold bedding and sheets were so soft to the touch. I had made his bed many times before, for I am his maid, but never have truly taken time to lay on the silk. So, I laid on the silk now, still breathing deeply as I tried to dissociate myself from reality.

After laying there a while I had dozed off, stretching out comfortably on his bed.

I didn't even realize I had dozed off until I jolted awake to a hand on my head. I grew horrified to see that it was Alexander who sat on the other end of the bed, his hand touching the side of my face gently. I sat up and backed off of the bed, worried he'd yell at me for laying there.

"John," he said, standing up as well. I tried to stand my ground but ended up backing against the corner of the room instead, feeling like breaking down. I let my hand slide across the wall, looking for the shelf that was right near me somewhere while remaining in eye contact with Alexander.

"I'm sorry," I said quickly with feigned fright, "please don't hurt me."

"What—? What for?" He drew nearer. If I could just grab a small clock, a vase, something from the shelf, I could defend myself. And maybe I could even escape.

"Sleeping in your bed, it was just an accident," I said. Faux respect.

Shit, what was I thinking?! I couldn't try to kill this man— what would happen if I fail? If somebody found out? I didn’t even want to do this. And they’d surely hang me. I didn't want to die, not yet. Not when I have something to live for. Breaking out of prison was a stretch, but the hope of breaking out of here and escaping and maybe moving somewhere— Canada, England, wherever, I don't care. As long as I'm away from here.

I stopped moving my hand when I felt the wood shelf, slowly bringing it back down to my side.

"I wouldn’t— I don't mind it," he said as though he was confused. Not angry or smiling, just pondering over it. "I came in just a minute or so ago... and I didn't want to wake you. You looked rather... peaceful."

I looked him up and down. I noticed his hair was wet. Perhaps he showered.

"How long have I been asleep?" I asked quietly, hand over my heart. I couldn't stop the heavy breaths.

"An hour possibly, I don't know. I was only absent for about an hour."

"Did you kill him? Lee?" I inquired, crossing my arms stiffly.

"Were you looking out the window, John?"

"No," I told him.

"Don't lie to me."

"Just for a moment. I didn't want to look... Sorry."

My hand instinctively traveled to my cheek where Alexander had slapped me earlier after I was being rude to him and I told him to 'get the fuck away from me' and to 'fuck off'. I still would say those two phrases anyway— he apparently can't slap for shit.

When he noticed I was touching my cheek, Alexander put his hand out over mine and pulled it down.

"You should learn how to cooperate better," he told me.

I slowly nodded. Cooperate, my ass! I can't let myself be afraid like this!

"You can sleep in my room from now on," he said and my heart stopped at the thought. Maybe he was insinuating “that” but perhaps it was innocent. No, of course he was insinuating that. He's a slave owner and he wants me to sleep with him. And after all that's happened, it doesn't surprise me that he wants that from me.

"What do you mean?" I asked quietly.

"The other slaves are giving you a hard time, aren't they?" he asked, so I nodded. "Well, you shouldn't have to suffer that."

"Why me?" I question, "Why am I any different?"

"Don't ask questions."

"I am targeted because you put me in this dress," I complain bitterly.

"You are just," he gritted his teeth and braced my shoulders as I growled, "so overbearing and argumentative. This is precisely why I've had to punish you. And believe me, I hate doing so."

"You sure do it a lot, though, considering how much you hate it," I said back.

"And what of all the times I have allowed you to get away with misconduct? Please, do not make me regret this."

I said nothing more as he pulled me to the bed again. Not as much of a forceful pull as it was a guidance, though. He sat me down and sighed, his back to me and I scrambled awkwardly to slide back on the bed.

"Wait—" I mumbled, prompting a confused and inquiring hum from Alexander, "I-I'm filthy.  I shouldn't."

"Then shower," Alexander said, motioning for me to follow him to the bathroom. I did, and he turned on the shower. He dug into a cabinet and handed me an unused bar of soap and a towel that was folded nearby. "Here," he almost smiled, "I'll be in my office. If you finish showering before I return, then feel free to get dressed. I'll hang some clothes up for you on the divider."

"Okay," I mumbled weakly. We stood quietly for a moment before he spoke again, sounding solemn as ever.

"Look, John... I'm sorry. About Lee and the other slaves."

"I'm fine."

"No, I know, I just want you to know that if I could have prevented that fight, I would have."

"Why?" I dared to ask, my hands moving up my arms to hug myself slightly. I let them drop and instead just crossed my arms, standing my ground. I caught a glimpse of myself in the bathroom mirror— my hair was knotted and messy, and my face had dirt on it. Not to mention the black eye that was starting to form. I went on when Alexander didn't answer, "Why, Hamilton? Why do you want to protect me?"

"Because I— I'm not cruel. Just shower, John," Alexander mumbled, turning away and closing the bathroom door. I stood there for a few moments before locking it and stripping to get in the shower.

I washed my body a bit forcefully, relishing the warm water. The water pressure varied every now and then but for the most part it was strong, unlike the water in the slave's quarters.

After I finished I wrapped the white towel around my waist and used another one to dry my hair. Alexander wasn't in the bedroom, luckily, but a plain white nightshirt was hung over the divider. I found some underwear and began to dress, not bothering to go behind the divider. When I heard the click of a doorknob I quickly pulled the shirt on as well, my stomach twisting in knots at the thought of somebody walking in on me half-nude.

"Oh, you're done with your shower," Alexander said, closing the door behind him and looking me up and down. I just nodded warily. He took my hand and led me to the bed, once again, and told me to sit. So I did. And I waited while he appeared to search for the right words to say.

“I’m sorry,” he said, echoing his apology form earlier.

“Stop,” I shook my head, “stop being ‘sorry’, it’s annoying, you didn’t do anything. Just fucking stop.”

Alexander looked guilty, eyes glancing around the room.

“And I’m fine,” I spoke quickly so he couldn’t say anything, “I’m fine, I’ve been beaten up before, I can handle it. I don’t need you or Charles Lee or anybody apologizing or being punished, because I’m fine, and I can handle myself. I don’t need anybody’s protection.”

Alexander’s fingertips brushed over mine and I immediately pulled away.

"...Fine. I have business to attend to. Get some sleep, John. You must be exhausted after the events of today."

"I— fine," I muttered. I sort of hugged myself after he left and I touched the soft pillows on the bed. My nap before hadn't been entirely comfortable, since I was just sort of curled in the middle of the bed instead of on a pillow. I laid my head down and closed my eyes tightly, trying to sleep. But I just couldn't.

I wished, somehow, I could be friends with Alexander. There was just something about him that prevented me from hating him, even if I was afraid. But, goddamn, if I wasn't a slave he would've had a broken nose by now.

My thoughts kept going back to Alexander. My only hope was that he didn't want me for sex. I couldn't deny it to him if he wanted it since he was my master, so I was just hoping he didn't want it. I've seen it again and again; the master requests for his slave to sleep in the house, he rapes the slave, and it never stops until he gets bored.


	8. Afraid

Why am I so weak, now? I suppose it began when I got arrested; my rights were stripped as well as my dignity. Any shred I had left was being spent on not letting my new “master” control me. Alexander wasn’t that awful, he just made me act quite wary. I had to be careful.

Alexander always stayed on his side of the bed when it was time for sleep. I had nightmares where he would roll over and pin me to the bed and force himself onto me. I was never loud when I woke up crying but I always wondered if he could hear me or not. I hated crying— the thought of him catching me crying and weak was more frightening than him possibly forcing himself on me.

Masters are allowed to do that to their slaves. Since, of course, slaves are property, it didn't matter what gender they were. As long as they were slaves, they were mere objects. There was no being arrested for homosexuality if you get caught with a male slave.

The sunlight shone through the curtains the second morning I was sleeping in the bed with him. I groaned and held onto the bedding, seeing Alexander getting dressed nearby. He was looking at me.

"What are you staring at?" I mumbled, clutching onto the red bedsheets and curling up more.

"You," Alexander whispered, "just the way you're sprawled out on the bed, swimming in silk, it's..."

I didn't wait for him to finish. I pushed myself up and glared.

"No, no, do it again," he finished tying his tie, "you looked so handsome," Alexander got on the bed as well, crawling over to me. I shifted and moved away, not wanting him to be so provocative.

"I don't want to," I tell him sternly, "I'm not handsome. And don't touch me. Don’t you have anything better to do than antagonizing me?”

"I have work to attend to anyhow," he said, at last, getting off the bed. "You'd better get started on your chores."

"Yes... sir," I said slowly, slipping off the bed. Once he left the room I slipped off the nightshirt and changed into the maid's clothes. The nightshirt really was just an oversized button up. Alexander said I should wear it rather than my dress when I sleep, which seems reasonable. It was much more comfortable. And much easier to take off?

He had practically handed over a bunch of his wardrobe for me to wear, minus the few maid's outfits I had. It felt weird wearing his clothes to bed but we were about the same size. The shirts are comfortable, so who am I to complain?

Still, Alexander's advances toward me this morning didn't help my anxiety. It credibly made me feel better that he didn't do anything when I told him no, however all I could think about what the possibility that he may not respect me next time. He had no reason to respect me. I'm not “human”.

I spent years of my life in an attempt to help and fight for the rights of slaves, the people whose lives were destroyed. Now, I was in their position.

As I cleaned, my mind was filled with images of him. His lips and his fingers and the way he whispered in my ear when he was drunk and how he had kissed my neck. I couldn't get rid of the sickening thought of his touch despite my pleas.

"John?"

I stopped when I heard his voice, tensing and feeling my back tingling. I knew, obviously, that there was no real pain; but the reminder of it gave me the illusion.

"Yes?" I spoke meekly, not looking up.

"I—" he paused, and I heard him sigh. "I apologize for what I said this morning, it was inappropriate of me.”

“Why do you do that?” I mumbled.

“Do what?” he asked

“Do something to me and then apologize. You’re not sorry.”

“I— I am sorry,” he insisted. “John, I’m sorry.”

"Whatever. It's fine," I answered. Why did I say that? It is not fine! After a moment, I set down the broom and turned to face him. He was across the room, eyes focused intently on me. I looked down and watched his hands. "If you don't mind my asking, why must I sleep in your room?"

"What do you mean?" Alexander hummed. He didn't sound offended by the question, though his hands tightened into fists for a moment.

"Just— why your room? I could sleep in any of the other rooms you have here, upstairs," my breath hitches and I soothed it, "and yet you hold me back. In your bedroom. I am just a slave, so, why?"

"Why not?" He sounded slightly offended, now. As if angry that I was considering myself as less of a person. "Why would I waste my time pampering you and giving you your own space in my mansion? I could just as easily send you back outside if you like—"

"No," I answered swiftly. "No, no, that's not it. It was only an inquiry, alright?"

"Fine," he scoffed a bit, looking away and crossing his arms. I couldn't look away from the tremor of his hand. "I have work to do, John."

"Then do it. I'm not holding you back— you're the one who came to talk to me, and besides, you're the one who actually has the freedom to—" I trailed off, having second thoughts about finishing that sentence. Apparently, I never learn to shut my mouth, so I went on anyhow: "—do whatever you please and go wherever. At least you can spend your life going to parties and enjoying yourself. I'm not even allowed to read, as a slave, let alone insinuate that I might have any say in what I do, or even," I motioned to the dress, "What I wear. Where I sleep, how I talk, when I eat, I have no freedom. So go, Mr. Hamilton, do your work. I have no say in it," I finished, gritting my teeth and lookin him right in the eye.

For a moment, I thought he was going to hit me. Yell at me. Drag me by my hair to his office, strip, and whip me again. While I ranted, I let the fear go; kept it suppressed in my mind. But now that I took a breath and finished, my mind was racing with all sorts of fears.

But Alexander didn't say anything. He glared at me and stormed off, leaving the room and leaving me alone for now.

When he left, I couldn't move. Only worry and think about all the ways he could mistreat me again. Why did he ever hurt me in private? Only in front of Jefferson, that one time, and the one slap in front of the other slaves. The only time in private he really hurt me was when he was getting me to tell him what happened outside, though it’s not as if he directly hit me. And he did so in order to punish whoever it was that hurt me. Even so, he never hit me hard, only yelled at me. But the possibility of getting hurt again was, well, inevitable.

Maybe even worse the next time. He could use a card on me that I always feared, knowing that I hate the idea of him touching me.

I covered my mouth. I could feel the vomit in the back of my throat. I realized I skipped breakfast, perhaps that's making it worse. I put the cleaning supplies aside and went downstairs. Theodosia looked concerned.

"John, are you alright? You took a while to come downstairs," she said.

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"Did... Mr. Hamilton do anything to you?"

"What?" I scoffed, "Theodosia, it isn't like that."

"I'm sorry I asked. As long as you promise everything is okay," she shrugged. I sighed and went to the sink for a glass of water to push down the vomit. As I drank, Theodosia said, "Are you sure? Because you seem unsure.”

"Nothing romantic is going on. He probably just wants me for sex," I say, feeling the words caught in my throat.

"Well, have you had sex?"

"No, but—"

"Then pray that those aren't his intentions," she told me.

"But, Theodosia, he says he likes the outfits I wear and this morning he called me 'handsome' because I wore his shirt to bed. I'm not 'handsome'— and I'm not a fucking girl! It kind of makes me... I don't know, squirm a bit?" I stammer a little.

"He's cold and kind of brutal sometimes, but has he ever forced himself on you?"

I was deciding between a “no” and a “not exactly”, applying to that time he was drunk. So I just settled with, "no" to avoid questions.

"You'll be fine," she smiled, though she sounded unsure. "If he ever does do anything like that, you can talk to me, okay?"

"What good will that do?" I ask, "If he does force himself on me, there's nothing I can do about it. He owns me legally.”

"It'll be okay, John," Sally smiled a bit sadly. "I promise. Mr. Hamilton wouldn’t do that."

I hugged Sally. I don't know why she was always so timid, but I prayed it didn't have anything to do with Alexander. Based on the situation I assumed it did. My nerves spiked every time I imagined what he did to her when they were alone.

Theodosia helped me to the dining room for breakfast. I shuddered when I heard Alexander come downstairs to the kitchen. He told Sally to come upstairs with him. I wanted to scream and stop him but Theodosia told me to stay quiet. Sally follows him upstairs.

"Where does he take her?" I asked Theodosia.

"To his office," she answered.

"No, but why? To do what?" I asked. Theodosia glanced at the floor and frowned.

"I don't know. It's not our business."

"Do you think... you know, he rapes her?" I whispered.

"Let's pray not," Theodosia left the room, refusing to talk to me about this any further. All I could imagine was the situation where Sally and I swapped places. I imagined all the awful things he could do to her and the things he could do to me. I shuddered and buried my face in my arms.


	9. Tell Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alex doesn’t understand what he’s doing wrong; he sucks at flirting; Alex assaulting somebody isn’t flirting

That night, I slipped under the covers after my shower. Alexander changed behind the divider and climbed into bed next to me— he takes morning showers, allowing me to take them at night. He was wearing me down to the point where I wasn't sure who I was anymore. I looked in the mirror and it wasn't _John Laurens_. I saw a skinny, pale-faced man dressed up as a girl. Not even my freckles looked right. In South Carolina, I was braver. I was strong. I was the one who would help the people who needed it, yet now...? Now I'm not sure if I can help myself.

"John," Alexander spoke under his breath in the darkness of his bedroom, "you are quite handsome."

"Thank you," I managed to mumble. My voice wavered slightly. I wasn't used to compliments, though still frightened. How could a compliment hurt so much?

"I'm— sorry. I just felt the need to say so. Not everybody can be simply gifted with natural beauty, but you, you're..."

"Yes, _thank_ you," I repeated, harsher.

I felt his warm breath on my neck as he continued to play with my hair. I stayed quiet.

"I just thought you needed to hear that. You said this morn' that you were not, but it is not true. You most certainly are," he mumbled.

"...Thank you."

"You're welcome," the movements of his hand slowed, still touching my hair, "it's the truth. You deserve the truth."

I felt frozen again. His hand in my hair, the other on my back. I felt his fingertips press against me as if waiting for something. He was waiting in anticipation of me falling asleep.   
• • •

I woke up in the middle of the night in cold sweat, an utter feeling of terror as I had a vivid nightmare. It felt so real yet I woke up to see myself on one side of the bed and Alexander, facing the other direction, on the other side. My crying was very quiet.

"John, are you all right?" I heard Alexander whisper as he rolled over to face me. I wiped my eyes quickly and turned over away from him so I wasn't facing him. I winced as one part of my back pressed harder into the bed than intended, irritating a bruise.

"I'm fine," I lied. So simple, my voice didn't even waver.

"You were crying. Tell me, what has you troubled?" he asked, grabbing my hips, forcing me to face him again. I winced and pushed his hands away.

"I said I am fine," I hissed.

"You are not fine. Why are you crying?" he asked once more, wiping my tears with his thumb. He rests his hand on my cheek. I averted my eyes.

"I had a nightmare," I muttered. Alexander dropped his hand from my cheek and put it on my waist, making me a bit startled. "Don't," I pushed his hands away again, "what is it with you and touching me, huh?  It's..."

Alexander shook his head. I had been sleeping in the same bed with him for a couple of weeks now.

He pulled my body against his and I grunted slightly, the tears still stained to my freckled cheeks. Alexander rubbed soft circles on my back, making me wince a bit from the pain where there were still welts after what Jefferson did to me. I just laid there quietly, not protesting the touch. There was no use in protesting it now. I kept my arms curled against his chest, resistantly pushing a bit, though not pulling away.

"John," he whispered, "describe the nightmare to me."

"I'd rather not," I mumbled, my face red. He drummed his fingers on my back and I closed my eyes tightly.

"Just tell me... it will help you if you talk about it," he insists. I shake my head and whimper. "John."

"You will be upset with me," I mumbled quietly. "You don't want to know."

"How could I possibly be upset? You cannot control what you dream about. I insist you just tell me..."

"Fine," I say. I took a deep breath and closed my eyes. "The nightmares are about you... hurting me."

Alexander stays quiet. He stops drumming his fingers on my hip and his arms are limp on my sides. I nervously tugged at the bottom of the shirt. It was cotton, not going past my knees. It was very comfortable yet uncomfortable simultaneously.

Alexander still remains silent. I don't pull out of his grip. I just curled up, him still holding onto me. Finally, he grabbed my hands and pulled them away from my face, making me uncurl and look at him. I couldn't make out his features in the dim moonlight that shown through the window.

"Don't be angry, you said you wouldn't," I whispered quietly.

"No, John, I'm not angry," he said at last. I sighed in relief. "I am simply... disgusted that you would have such thoughts about me."

"How could I not?" I mumbled. "You touch me when I do not wish to be touched, you hit me for screwing up and speaking my mind, you say provocative things when all I wish is to go home."

The last part hung in the air. When I had said it, I heard my voice hitting a higher octave for a millisecond. I'm not going to cry. I can't.

"You can't go home," he said. It sounded as if he intended the words to be harsh but, under the thin, thin layers of harshness, I could clearly hear sympathy. Perhaps, something more like empathy as he looked in my eyes. He was searching for something, I could tell clearly.

No more was said that night. He rolled over and I stayed quiet. I don't remember when I dozed off.

A part of me was a bit upset. I was unsatisfied with his answer. He didn't reassure that he wouldn't force himself on me nor did he say anything reassuring whatsoever. It was just his "disgust" that I would feel that way.

I've known I was homosexual for a while now, before I got arrested, but since it was illegal I've never acted upon it. But _disgust_? Who says _he_ has the right to disgust when he so obviously tried to have sex with me when he was drunk?

• • •

When I woke up, he wasn't in the room. It was just myself, alone, wrapped in the silky blankets and feeling the warm sunlight on my hair. I looked for the grandfather clock in the corner which read that it was two hours later than when I should have been awake and cleaning. If Alexander ever woke me up, I wouldn't have known. I quickly got dressed and put my hair up with the black ribbon, glancing at my back in the mirror and wincing at the sight. Still red, scabbing, and bruising.

Alexander barely said anything to me that day except for snapping at me to scrub the floor harder or else it was never going to get clean— because _floors don't clean themselves._

Later in the day, he made me sit on the bed while he changed my bandages on my thigh, and that was the most interaction I got with him that wasn't completely negative. He still seemed upset but didn't say anything, though that was mostly because I didn't argue with him this time.

At lunchtime with the other girls, I told them about Alexander and how he reacted when I revealed my fear of him.

"I think he's angry," Martha said. Theodosia nodded a bit. Sally stayed silent, picking at the food on her plate.

"I didn't do anything," I sighed, "he's the one who told me to tell him. And he promised he wouldn't be upset."

"He's Hamilton," Martha took a bite of her broccoli. I had barely touched my plate. "He's pissed about anything and everything and will punish anyone in sight for it."

"I just want to go home," I groaned, burying my face in my arms.

"Me too," Sally whimpered. It was the first time she spoke this whole meal. The other two girls seemed to draw back a bit.

"John, you should eat something," Martha said.

"I'm not hungry," I pushed the plate away. "I'm going to clean upstairs."

"Very well."


	10. Crying

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sally deserves better

I was cleaning Alexander's bedroom when I heard footsteps go up the stairs. Quietly, I turned the corner to see who it was.

Sally was walking behind Alexander and they turned into his office. I felt a lump in my throat.

I realized I was holding my breath for a while as I continued cleaning. At one point I had attempted to listen through the walls but I couldn't hear a word. It was muffled but I heard Sally crying. I heard her let out a loud sob. I couldn't take it anymore. I couldn't pretend I wasn't listening to her crying and I couldn't ignore it.

It may not be my business, but I had to stop it. I dropped the feather duster I was holding, kneeling down to look through the keyhole of the door. All I could make out was Sally's feet and Alexander's, both too close to one another. I grabbed the doorknob to his office and opened the door, not even realizing that tears were building up in my eyes. "Hey—!" I shouted angrily, but I cut my voice short when I realized nothing was happening.

"John," Alexander said. I studied his face. Sally was sitting on the sofa, a light colored hankerchief in her hand. Alexander was sitting across from her in his office chair. "What are you doing?" he asked.

"You..." I trailed off.

"Sally, pardon me for cutting this short, would you like to go on downstairs?" Alexander turned to her. She nodded slowly and wiped her eyes. Sally rushed past me without a word, eyes down. "John, come here."

 _Oh, fuck this_.

I started walking into the room and he told me to close the door behind me. I stood next to him.

"John, sit ," he motioned to the sofa. I followed his command, biting the inside of my cheek.

"I'm sorry for interrupting," I muttered. _Cannot get punished again_.

"What did you think I was doing with her?" he asked.

"I can't say."

"John," he said, a bit more stern this time.

"No," I mumbled hopelessly.

"Goddammit, just tell me what it is you are so afraid of!" Alexander shouted. I flinched and let out a short, started noise.

"I thought you were hurting her," I admitted through gritted teeth, letting out short breaths as I began to panic a bit. I could barely see anything; it was all blur. "I-I thought you were ... _raping_ her..."

"Now why would you insinuate that?" His voice softened a bit though it sounded, still, as though he were angry. "I would never force myself on her. I talk to her just about weekly. To assume that I would ever stoop to such a disgusting level is a goddamned insult! What is it with you lately and all your fantasies in your head where I force you into sex?"

"They're not fantasies!" I pleaded, "They're nightmares!"

"I have never forced myself onto you! And I never would! How dare you insinuate something so wretched about me? What is it with you?"

"Yes, you did!" I said. It turned into a growl as I buried my face in my knees.

"What?" he hissed. "When?"

"You don't remember. You were drunk," I said venomously. Alexander's expression was unreadable.

"Well, what happened?" Alexander whispered, "Tell me what I did. I don't remember such a relation. Please."

"I can't," I said.

"John," he insisted.

"You kept groping me," I began, "and you pinned me on the wall... and you kept saying provocative things to me. You wanted me to touch you and hold you and you looked like you were going to begin crying. You were drinking rum and I could smell it on your breath. I asked Martha if you've ever done anything like this before and she said no. Well, she said no to the sexual things. So I got worried and didn't tell anybody that you did those things and I thought you were going to whip me again for pushing you away," the last part came out all in one breath. I tried to stop the short breaths by covering my mouth, closing my eyes, hunching over.

Alexander stood up slowly from his office chair and sat down on the couch next to me. He put his hands on my hands as I simmered down.  He touched the back of my head and I flinched. 

"In all honestly, I don't want that. You don't have to listen to me but hear my opinion and know that I don't want that. I thought we could be friends," I admitted, "of some sort. But then all this bullshit with Jefferson—a-and sleeping in your bed, I don't—I don't _know_ , now."

"I would never do something so disgusting. The fact that I did so while intoxicated is horrific. It's terrible."

"I'm sorry, but you must understand where I am coming from..."

"I do. But, you are going to continue sleeping in my bedroom. If you have a nightmare, wake me up. If you feel uncomfortable, tell me. Rely on me. Let me be _comfortable_ for you... I may 'own' you, but your emotions shouldn't be friction between us. It will be easier for us both if you cooperate and stop letting irrational fears get in your way."

"I cannot help that I am afraid of you," I said, "and the other slaves treat me poorly as they think you favor me."

"That's because I _do_ favor you. I can protect you," he whispered. I flinched, nodding slowly as I laid my head on his shoulder. I sat still, feeling paralyzed and tired, short of breath and not wanting to move. So pitiful. So weak.

"Why?" I managed to mumble, my hand on his thigh loosely.

"I know that it's hard," he said softly, "I know that you never asked for this and I'm sorry for hurting you. I'm sorry for making you afraid, I-I..." he paused and I clenched my fist on his lap, groping slightly at the material of his pants. Alexander sighed and rested his head on top of mine, hugging me a bit. "I'm sorry. I won't hurt you again. Just...  _don't_ _leave me_."

"Don't make promise you do not intend to keep," I mumbled. I kept my head on his shoulder, groping a bit tighter on his clothed leg, "And don't lie to me."

"It's the truth. I am sorry, I swear by it. I only want to help."

"Then stop making excuses."

He sighed and hugged me close. "I'm sorry."

" _I'm_ fine," I assured him weakly, "you don't need to protect me. I don't need protecting."

"Perhaps not. But I can't help it," he mumbled, lips against my head. "I'm sorry," he repeated. "Please, don't be afraid. Don't leave."

"Why? Why are you so worried about my leaving?"

"I want you to stay. But not because I force you, I just... enjoy your company."

I snorted and pulled away a bit.

"It's true," Alexander defended, "you're great company."

"Even with the resentment and fear and snarky comments?"

"You're so much more interesting than anybody else I have ever met, that's for sure."

"Hah."

"John..." he took a deep breath and looked me in the eyes. "Look, I hate to admit this, but... I sleep better when I'm not alone. Okay? That's why."

"What?" I asked for clarification.

"It... I cannot bring myself to tell you _all,_ although I can tell you that the reason I want you in my bed is because I cannot sleep without somebody's heat... body, warmth, weight... I need that beside me. I am sorry if I've made my intentions unclear."

It would make sense. The way he clings to me when he barely knows me—he probably thinks I'll reject this, but, "No, that's... that's fine." It was, I suppose, the truth.

"Thank you."


	11. Bruises

When I woke up again, I was in bed— _Alexander's_ bed, as usual. I was wearing different clothes; a large nightshirt of his instead of my maid's clothing. I don't remember changing out of my clothes last night. I don't remember even going to bed after I fell asleep in his office.

Alexander wasn't in the bedroom with me; I was by myself. It was a bit chilly in the room. I pulled the red blanket over my shoulders and curled back up. A few moments later I heard the door creak. Alexander came into the room, holding a mug.

"I brought you tea," he said. I didn't move. He sat down on the bed next to me, hand running over my back. I yelped a little. "Are you all right?"

"Yes, sorry," I mumbled, "my back is just sore."

"Well, come here," he motioned to me. Alexander rolled me onto my stomach and ran his hand over my clothed back.

"Shit," I mumbled in pain at the touch. Alexander took his hand off my back. He pulled up my nightshirt to look at my back, revealing my body in just my underwear. The underwear covered what needed to be covered but was short to go better with the dresses.

I groaned quietly as his fingertips lightly grazed over my back. He was careful to trace around the large bruises that stretched downward.

"I didn't see this last night," he mumbled, "it's a lot worse than I initially thought."

"What? What didn't you see?" I added modestly, "Hamilton?"

"The bruises. It's a lot more grotesque than what I thought. I didn't see it when I was changing you because it was dim," he told me. "Thomas really did a number on you."

"You did too," I reminded him. He blinked at me and looked away, clearly hurt and embarrassed. I added, "Not as bad, though... Jefferson's lashes hurt much more."

Alexander let out a disgusted sigh. He then mumbled, "I'll be right back."

I stayed still, squirming just a little bit. I didn't like being half-nude so I pulled the blanket up over my bottom half, leaving my back exposed as I stayed on my stomach.

Alexander came back with some gauze and ice. He sat down on the bed again and peeled my nightshirt all the way off as I sat up. I made sure to cover my legs with the bedding, feeling both uncomfortable with exposure and freezing down to my bones.

"I'm going to compress it," he told me, "it may hurt a bit at first."

I shifted and held my breath as he wrapped the bandages around my full torso. His cold knuckles had grazed my body more than once as he bandaged me, making me a bit startled. When he finished, he put the shirt back over me. I went to get up to get dressed but he pushed me back into the bed.

"You need to be resting," he told me. I insisted I was fine as I had been working for the past couple of weeks since being whipped regardless, but he ordered me to stay in bed for the day.

I took into consideration what he had said last night when I was crying. Alexander could _protect_ me... yet he failed to mention that _nobody_ could protect me _from_ him. It was unsettling but calming at the same time. It's a good feeling, even if I was still afraid of him. Protection was the most I could really get out of this right now.

I didn't initially want anybody to "protect" me. I've never wanted anybody but myself to protect me. I don't need protection; _I_ protected other people. I protected the slaves my father owned, I protected my siblings, I tried to protect my brother, James. Though James; he left too soon, and it was my fault. It was then that I began to realize that I couldn't protect everybody.

Then prison happened. When I was arrested, I had to look out for myself.

Now, here in Alexander's arms, I had to protect my sanity. He says he wants to protect me...

"I will be in my office," he told me, "don't get up unless it is to use the bathroom, understood?"

"But, why?" I asked.

"I told you, you need to rest or it won't heal."

"Does this have something to do with protecting me?" I sat up stiffly, hiding the started noise I made. "Because I don't need protecting."

"No, John, just rest."

"I said before, I'm fine, I can work and walk just fine, I don't need—"

"John," he said sternly, then sighed. "Just listen to me and rest. Understood?"

"No," I argued. "What the hell? You can't just protect me like some fragile rose because you want me to stay around and comfort your sorry ass."

"Consider it a damned day off or something, then. Jesus Christ."

"Whatever," I finally muttered, sinking back down on the bed. A day off _would_ be nice.

"Good," he turned, then left.


	12. Respect

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “If you respect me, I will respect you,”

I slept for most of the day and then the night when Alexander came to bed. Sally brought me a couple of meals, not wanting to ask questions about why I was supposed to stay in bed, what happened last night, and why I looked like I had been crying my eyes out. It was obvious that she insinuated that Alexander had hurt me in some way or forced me into something, though she stayed quiet.

When Alexander came back that evening, he changed without saying a word to me. I pretended to be asleep. His weight moved next to me in the bed.

"John, are you awake?" he whispered. I pretended to be asleep. "John?" he whispered again, touching my shoulder. I just kept my breathing as steady as possible and my eyes shut. I didn't display a reaction to his touch.

I heard him shift in the bed and get closer to me. His hand was combing through my hair and his other hand was on my thigh. It startled me but I kept pretending I was sleeping. His hand brushed against my upper thigh but didn't go any higher. Alexander kept it there, his hand eventually going still but staying in my hair.

“I’m sorry,” I heard him whisper. “I’m sorry.”

I felt my breath catch in my throat. I just closed my eyes tighter and tried to sleep. Alexander was so close that I could feel his deep breaths, heaving almost as if he were crying. When I heard his breathing go steady and his arms limp, I opened my eyes very carefully. Alexander was definitely asleep, his body far too close to mine for comfort. I uncurled my arms and grabbed his hands, taking them off my body with ease. I was afraid he'd wake up yet he didn't.

At last, I could breathe again as I rolled over away from his body and fell asleep.

In the morning, I woke up with his presence still by me; it was slightly startling, as I've woken up almost every morning with him already out of bed. I found myself not just next to him, but he was curled up against me.

Immediately I tried to slip away, but his arms were around me. Dammit. I pushed up on his arms and slipped my way out of his hold carefully as to not disturb him.

I sighed and got off the bed, grabbing my clothes and changing behind the divider. I've forgotten what I look like without dresses, blisters, and nightshirts. He's dressed me like a woman and damaged me, forced me to clean daily and he's hit me and bandaged the wounds. He gave me gloves to put over the blisters on my hands which he caused. Bandages and clothing over the cut on my thigh and the welts on my back.

It, once again, occurred to me that he had only ever hit my face once. That one time was because I had disrespected him in front of other slaves. When in private, he never hit me at all. He only ever hit me in front of people. Away from other eyes, he seemed to prefer to frighten me by grabbing my chin or threatening me with the threats that never were sustained. And then he talked to me like I was a human. I suddenly remember weeks ago how he had asked me about my hobbies, trying to make conversation. He did that often for some reason— trying to make conversation with me. A slave. It was as if he wanted to be friends. Although, that snuggling on his sofa was much more than friends. I couldn’t help it. When he hugged me and talked gently to me, I couldn’t pull away. Empty promises he made were perhaps never meant to be held up— still, I stayed hugging him.

And his friend, Peggy Schuyler— I knew her vaguely from the newspaper and talk, her and her family. She had two older sisters, only one of which I remembered the name of. Angelica, I believe. She mentioned the other one at that party weeks ago, though I couldn’t remember. They were known for encouraging the Women's Suffrage movement. I remembered hearing, in prison, lots of buzz about how all women were finally allowed to vote. I held in my personal thoughts about it, as the other men in the prison didn't seem to want to endorse it. 

Shaking away the thoughts, I slipped out from behind the divider to grab my shoes, which were by the door. I heard shifting as Alexander got out of bed.

"Mm, what are you doing?" he asked.

"Going to start on my chores," I tell him.

"Did I say you could get out of bed?" he questioned, walking towards me.

"No," I tell him, "but you were asleep."

"Precisely. So why did you think it would be alright to sneak off?" Alexander's hands found their place in my hands as he laced our fingers together. I followed his lead slowly as we turned around and I was leaned back onto the bed. He held my hands in place as he crawled over me. "Well?" he inquired. "Are you going to answer the question?"

"I didn't want to disturb your sleep," I tell him. My hands were pinned above my head on the silky sheets that were messed up from our slumber. This felt too weird. He was being too gentle— though his voice was stern— and I didn't fully hate it. In fact, in this position, I had to almost stifle a laugh. His eyes looked like he genuinely cared. Nobody has ever cared before. They echoed his eyes from before: when he helped me up after Jefferson ravaged me; when he tended to my wounds after the other slaves bested me; when I thought he was hurting Sally. It was all so nostalgic and yet, new. Under my breath, I added, "I shouldn't need your permission to awaken."

"Then you stay in bed until I awaken," he told me, "is that clear?"

"Yes," I say. “It’s clear...”

"Good. I don't want you working today, either," he says. I bite my inner cheek.

"Why not? —Mr. Hamilton?"

"Your back needs rest. It will never heal if you don't rest. The welts and bruises... they will certainly leave scars, but hopefully not as bad if you rest, keeping it compressed and iced. Understood?"

"How many more times can I get you to say ‘rest’?” I teased and cleared my throat, smile faltering. “Uh... understood," I said. He's still pinning me to the bed— what, did he forget that he was impairing me from moving?— After a moment I slowly add, "it's quite dulling here with nothing to do all day..."

"I will check on you more often, how would that be?" he suggests. Not what I meant... the less of him, the better. The less I had to feel restricted. Like right now, actually. In fact, I have reason to believe that he's gotten too comfortable with holding me down. Ew. I think I might've gotten too comfortable with it, too. Double ew.

"I was," I sighed and looked away, "I was thinking..."

"Look me in the eyes when you speak to me, John," he said. I bit my tongue to stifle another wry grin.

"And why is that?" I asked.

"It's rude not to maintain eye contact when having a conversation," he reasoned. I let out the smallest of laughs, closing my eyes and tightening my grip on his hands— which still pinned mine to the bed.

"It's also rude to hit somebody," I joked lightly, hoping it wasn't a risky move. He sighed and I glanced to see him stifling a grin. So I smile a little, too, then look him in the eyes. Dark chocolate eyes. So many layers of color. "I was thinking, perhaps I could read a book?" I asked, knowing it was quite the dangerous question. "I know slaves are not normally allowed to be reading but I already know how to read and while cleaning I have seen quite a few interesting-looking ones," I trail off a bit at the end.

"What book do you want to read?" he asked. He was taking it surprisingly well. But then again, I didn't perceive him as the cold person he made himself out to be. Especially the kind to deny one a book to read— he was definitely the more academic type. And he already said he "favored" me; I could use it to my advantage, just so long as I'm careful it doesn't go too far.

"Uh," I stammered and closed my eyes, trying not to smile, "you should choose."

"Very well," he let my hands drop and I sighed heavily. Alexander got off of me and I sat up on the bed. "John, change into a nightshirt again. You don't need to wear that for a day of rest."

"Hah, rest, you said it again. Buy a thesaurus," I smiled and he rolled his eyes. "Right, of course."

"Good. Go behind the divider and change."

"Alright,” I said. I grabbed a clean nightshirt and changed out of the dress. The shirt was much more comfortable anyhow. The one I was wearing was just white but soft to the touch; it was fine cotton. It went no lower than my knees. I grabbed a short pair of socks and pulled those on as well, not wanting my feet to be cold. It was early Autumn, after all. Didn't need the flu in addition to oppression. That’d be unfortunate.

I came out from behind the divider where Alexander was already dressed and tying his tie when I emerged.

"Handsome," he said quietly as if he didn’t want me to hear. "Go on, John, get in bed. I'll be back in a few moments with a book or two for you to enjoy."

I obeyed his command and got in bed again. He left the room and returned with three books.

"I've read all of these," he told me, setting them on the nightstand next to me.

"Um, are you sure that I can't just work for a little while today?"

"John, what did I tell you?" he lectured. "You are not working today. You can work when I see that you've healed."

“You sound like my mother,” I rolled my eyes. My voice softened a bit as I spoke directly to him again. "Pardon, my back has been healing regardless. It's been weeks since the incident and—"

Alexander grabbed my chin between his thumb and forefinger. He turned my head and forced me to look at him. It wasn't rough, but goddamn, it made me want to knock him out. Or... oh, shit. Nope. Poor life choices arose in my mind.

"I know what's best," he whispered. "Don't disrespect me, John."

"Yes, I apologize," I mutter. He's still holding my face as he drew nearer. So close— yet still, so far.

"If you'd listen to me, you'd have no reason to be afraid," he said. Alexander let go of my face.

"But does respect not originate from fear?" I whispered. "If I am obeying your every word, am I not upholding fear of you? To listen to you I'd have to be afraid of punishment."

"What about having a good moral compass? Do you believe that the only reason anybody follows rules is in fear of punishment?"

"From our Lord, perhaps."

"Unfortunately, that is only what idea we've created in our minds to make other people behave and to justify what we don't know. What we think we believe and what is real are two very different things. We're all afraid of punishment. Some for the right reasons, some for the wrong."

"There are two types of respect, you know," I said. He looked back at me curiously, sitting down next to me on the edge of the bed for a moment. I sat up and continued talking, "the first is recognizing and treating somebody like a powerful figure. An authority. The second is respecting somebody as a human. Treating them as such."

"And your point with this is what, John?" he asked, looking at me. I leaned forward a little, my fingertips just barely brushing over his knee. 

"My point is, if I don't respect you as an authority, you won't respect me as a human."

"That's not true," he said immediately, defensively. "I treat you like a human!" I touched the side of his face and he jerked away, not looking at me again. "Don't insinuate such things. Get some rest," he stood up. 

"Yes, Mr. Hamilton," I mutter. When he turned, I added quietly in a mocking voice, "Whatever, Mr.-fucking-Hamilton."

"Good," he mumbled. Thank God, he didn't hear me. Even though I sort of wished he did. I turned away and pulled the blanket over my chest. "I will be in my office. Same rules as yesterday. I will be back a bit earlier than yesterday to assist you in replacing your bandages."

"Of course," I nodded.

Alexander left and I sighed, picking up “The Wonderful Wizard Of Oz.” It was going to be another long day.


	13. Regrets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Baths; Bonding over books

"John," Alexander said, "would you come here, please?"

"Okay," I set the book down and get out from under the covers. I walk to him, almost tripping over my own feet since I've barely walked all day— apparently, I’m a clumsy motherfucker.

"Come on," he grabbed my elbow with gentle force and lead me to the bathroom. He started a bath with oils and salts. "Arms up," he told me.

Reluctantly, I put my arms above my head. Alexander tugged the shirt off of my body and set it aside, leaving me in my underwear and socks. I tried to hide my embarrassed face but he grabbed my hands and moved them away.

"I'm going to take off your bandages, turn around," he said. I obey, turning so that I was no longer facing him. He began to unwrap the gauze over my torso, doing so rather warily.

"Hamilton," I mumbled, feeling his fingertips grazing over my back delicately. He said nothing, letting out a heavy breath instead. "Pardon," I said, "is something wrong?"

"No," Alexander breathed, "it's fine. I'm sorry, it's all fine. I'm fine."

He then goes to take off the gauze on my thigh. The cut was still there, very deep even after two weeks. I feel his fingertips over my thigh this time.

"Strip and get in the tub," he told me, "I'll be in the bedroom."

“Why?” I asked, gesturing to the hot bath. “Why give me the luxury of oils, salts, and hot water?”

Alexander turned and shrugged slightly. “I don’t know. You’re good company...”

“Mm. Sure, yes, Sir," I mumbled rather inaudibly. I wasn't quite okay with this. He left and closed the door. I stripped and lowered myself into the nice tub— it was definitely special treatment and partiality, but I could deal with that. I haven’t taken a tranquil bath in over a year. 

While I was settling in, it suddenly occurred to me that I hadn’t locked the door. I glanced over at the door then back at the hot water, sighing heavily. I couldn’t bear getting out now— I’d just leave it. Just this once.

After my bath, I dried myself in a fluffy white towel and grabbed the white bathrobe he had hung up for me. I wrapped myself in it and left the bathroom. Alexander was reading, waiting for me. He was already wearing his pajama bottoms and a robe. I felt a bit of trust of him dwell in my heart, knowing that I had bathed with the door unlocked and he hadn’t tried to come in. He always wasn’t making lewd comments about my being naked under the robe, or at all lately, for that matter. 

"I'm finished bathing," I tell him.

"Oh, are you, now? Didn’t notice,” he scoffed sarcastically. I found myself laughing a little. He shook his head and smiled, “Very well. Get covered, there's a nightshirt draped over the divider," he informed me, getting off the bed and heading to the bathroom. I heard him unplug the tub and he came back, holding my clothes from earlier and tossing them aside in a laundry basket.

"Pardon me," I tugged down on the hem of the black shirt I was now wearing. It was a button up and the sleeves were very long on me. It was shorter than I had hoped, revealing most of my thighs. What's even the point of wearing clothes anymore if I'm half-nude anyway? For God's sake, my briefs were almost longer than the shirt!

"Yes?" He studied me up and down. “Sorry, there were no other clean ones,” he informed me quickly, “Martha hung the laundry to dry outside earlier and it still isn’t dry, as it began to sprinkle lightly,” Alexander cleared his throat. I nodded.

"Isn't...?" I lingered, "never mind— is this a shirt of yours, or...?”

“Yes, apologies,” he hummed a bit and walked over to me, brushing the damp curls out of my face.

“Good evening,” I rolled my eyes at him and smiled a little, his hand lingering by my forehead.

"Evening,” Alexander chuckled. "You do know that you cannot continue this forever." "Continue what?" "Keeping me here, locked up and 'ill' so you may pamper me. It won't work forever... I have to go back to work sometime. And whether that be because you're sick of me or because the other slaves get suspicious..." "I know. I'll put new bandages on you in the morning," he mumbled, "you look very tired, John, come on to bed."

I nodded and walked quietly to the bed. He turned off the lights and climbed into bed with me. He didn't try to touch me as he had last night, and I'm imagining it's because he knows I am conscious.

Later I began to doze off but stopped myself. It was enticing to fall dormant, yet I couldn't; not when he could take advantage of me while I was safely dreaming. I needed to wait for him to fall asleep first. I was angry with myself, knowing that while I had trust in him earlier, it was now overpowered by my skepticism and fear.

When Alexander eventually did fall asleep, I let myself sleep as well.

The next week or so went the same. He'd seize me to stay in bed, would change my gauzes and have me bathe. I always made sure to stay awake so that he couldn't get to me while I was asleep. I had dozed off before him only one time, and I woke up in the middle of the night. There was no nightmare this time and no panic. His hand was on my back, relaxed. When I had pacified, I rolled over so that I was absent from his embrace.

Then, one night, I fell asleep and woke up with him practically attached to me, hugging me and curled up against my back. Alexander was stirring quite a bit in his sleep which is the reason I had woken up. I pulled the covers tightly over him to try and give comfort, in the speculation that he was simply cold. When I pulled away he had, in his dreaming state, latched onto me and began to mumble under his breath. I had been so tired and fed up that I just allowed him to grab onto me as I fell back asleep. It seemed to quiet him.

• • •

"Hey, John," Alexander said one evening. I followed him to the bathroom and stood before him. He took the bandage off of my thigh and torso. Alexander let out a heavy sigh and his thumb grazed over the scar on my leg. "Get in the tub," he told me. I nodded and did so once he left.

When I got out he didn't put new bandages on.

"Pardon," I said after I get dressed for bed, wearing a pair of loose pajama pants and an undershirt, "are you going to reapply my bandages? And I hope you don’t mind, it’s rather cold tonight, so I might have stolen a pair of your pants.”

Alexander laughed a little. “No, I don’t mind. As for the bandages, you don't need them anymore," he told me, "It's scarring over. The swelling on your back went down, too."

"Okay," I susurrated nearly inaudibly.

Alexander stared at me for a minute before walking and sitting down on the bed.

"Come here," he motioned to me. I sat down next to him on the bed. "Lay on your stomach."

“What for?” I asked with skepticism obvious in my tone. He didn’t say anything, so I simply followed his orders. My nerves were beyond spiked.

I feel his hand go up my shirt and touch my back. Usually, his hands were cold but right now they were warm. He pulled up the shirt and traced my back silently.

"Thomas is never going to do that again," he reminded me quietly. I buried my face in the sheets and closed my eyes. "John, look at me."

I didn't move. I felt frozen in place.

"John," he repeated, grabbing my hand and tugging gently. I rolled over eventually onto my side and he laid down next to me. "John, I promise you that he won't do that. Do you believe me?"

"Sure," I whispered. I doubted it maybe just a little bit but he wouldn't be thrilled to hear that.

"I hope you know I lament engaging him to whip you like that," Alexander uttered.

I feel tears coming to my eyes. I shifted, a few strands of damp hair dropping in front of my eyes. Alexander moved them out of the way and wiped my tears with his thumbs. It was all too strange. I had so many mixed thoughts about Alexander. I could joke with him and make friendly comments, but when it came to anything more the thought startled me.

I want to lean into his body and accept the gentle touch but the images of his abuse clouded my mind. The way he could so easily manipulate me and take my acceptance of a touch to the face as consent to more. The way he could make more scars on my body if I disobey. The way he could overpower me and have his way with my body as an object.

That's all I am; as a slave, I am not human. Not even able to exercise the First Amendment rights I would normally have as a citizen. I'm a source of work and pleasure by law, and whoever owns me can do as they please.

"Do you often read?" 

"What was that?" I asked for clarification, taken a bit off-guard.

"I asked if you often read. Or, read," he used the past tense, "back before you were arrested? Is it a hobby of yours?" he inquired. His hand lingered on my back.

"Yes. I liked to read about Greek mythology," I answered. Eventually, I sat up to face him. "Why does it matter?"

"I can get you some Greek mythology books if you'd like," he said, "I have several in my library."

"And what about you?" I ask, "Are you a reader?"

"Of course. Though I don't have much time for it with work and all," he laughed a bit.

"Yes, that'd be understandable. My father, he— he was a big gambler. Wouldn't be surprised if he gambled away his plantation, you know, but that was his vice," I laughed a little. Alexander smiled solemnly.

"I see. I suppose that's not such a good vice to have. Though, one might think my work ethic was a bad vice."

I chuckled. "I used to smoke," I said. "That was my 'bad vice'. Smelled terrible, tasted terrible, but damn was it felt so good to have a nice cigarette. Of course, to get cigarettes in prison would be a tedious task. Ergo, I have the right to claim I quit smoking cold-turkey."

"What a funny metaphor," he scratched his chin. "It's nice to talk to a person who shares my love of literature, though."

"Well, of course! Literature is important to culture and history and even just reading short stories is a treat for your mind," I smiled. Alexander nodded, understanding. We sat in silence for a while. I finally spoke up, "I... I am very tired. We should get to sleep."

"Is such what you desire?" he sighed. Alexander shifted off of the bed and went to turn out the lights. I sighed, a bit relieved as I slipped under the covers; he followed. I heard him mumble, "I enjoyed talking to you."

"I... enjoyed talking to you, too."

After that, I feigned to be asleep. I felt his hand caress my mandible, his knuckles brushing over rather gently. I lingered unmovingly. The hand moved across my figure and over my lower half. I thought his hand was going to stay there and I bit the inside of my cheek. Instead, his hand moved under my shirt and on my back again. I let out the air I had been holding. His knuckles mildly traced over my spine.

Alexander's hand stayed there on my back until I fell asleep.


	14. Alright, For Now

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tranquility at its finest

“John, I haven't seen you in days," Theodosia embraced me tightly, "Are you alright?"

"Yes," I acknowledged.

"What happened? Did Mr. Hamilton—"

"No," I replied promptly. "He didn't... you know. I'm much less worried he may."

"Well, what happened?" She asked.

"Hamilton told me to rest because of what happened a few weeks ago with Jefferson..." I dwindled my thumbs, "he wasn't very pleased with the welts I have from the whipping... he bandaged me and changed them every so often. I promise you, Hamilton hasn't done anything provocative with me."

In a split second, I realized I was defending Alexander. And what for? We weren’t actually friends, were we? But surely those intimate— if one could call it that— moments meant something. They had to have meant something.

"Praise the Lord," she put a hand over her chest and hugged me again. Theodosia finally pulled away and smiled, undoing her braids from her ponytail and redoing them into a bun. "Will you be working again?"

"Yes," I tell her. "It was getting rather boring anyhow, sitting by my lonesome all day, the only interaction with Hamilton and briefly Sally when she brought my meals."

"Welcome back."

"John," Martha said to me as she came into the kitchen. "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine," I said. "I really should get upstairs and begin cleaning... I'm sure it's gotten a bit dirty since I haven't cleaned all week."

"All week? You've been just... sitting around all week?" Marth asked.

"Yes, uh... against my will, I suppose, but Hamilton sort of just wanted me to relax and I— well, I honestly have no idea why," I fibbed.

"Oh, John, wait," Theodosia took my hands and grinned. "Aaron came to visit again!"

"Did he, now?" I raised an eyebrow.

"Yes, he did! He and I got to talk when he came into the kitchen. You should have been there, my goodness, he's such a flirtatious man!"

"That all?"

"No! He kissed my cheek before he left!" she squealed, "Mr. Burr said he'd visit me in obscurity at the slave quarters and we spent nearly the whole twilight together in the gardens just talking and holding one another."

"Is that all you did?" Sally bumped into her playfully, raising her eyebrows.

"Shut it, Sally, yes, that's all. However it was so chilly that he let me wear his coat... heavens, I feel so sinful for getting involved with a married man, but... Lord knows I can't help it," she sighed at the last part. "I think I may be in love with him, John."

"Do you think there is hope? For a relationship?" I ask.

"No more than a slither..." she said sadly. "Anyhow, I have to bake more cakes and prepare drinks for the party tomorrow!"

"Party?" I question.

"Heavens, does Mr. Hamilton not tell you these things?" She giggled. "Yes, another party. It will be tomorrow, though, so it'll be fine. I recommend you talk to Peggy Schuyler... she's a nice girl, quite a treat to talk to from my experience. Very kind as well. Her sisters are too but they tend to leave her out a bit. The three of them are famous 'round these parts."

"I told you already, don't try to hook me up with people!" I stuck my tongue out at her. She giggled as I left the room. I was then stopped by Alexander, who touched my wrist gently and smiled a bit.

"Morning," I said, not knowing what to say after it.

"Good morning," Alexander whispered. "Where are you off to?"

"Cleaning the upstairs, of course."

"Very well," he nodded. I stayed looking at him.

"Is that all?"

"No," he mumbled. He resembled as though he were striving to find words, searching for them as they scattered across his brain. "I'd like you to wax the washroom floors today as well. I am holding a party tomorrow evening."

"Alright," I said. He stood still as I stepped away. I turned around briefly as I walk up the stairs, catching a glimpse of him as he ran his fingers through his hair and let out a deep sigh. It looked not-like relief, but something else— exhaustion, perhaps? Sadness?

His breath didn't smell as though he had been drinking, so that's heartening. As I began to wax the washroom floor on my hands and knees, I wondered why he had stopped me without any intentions more than that. And if he had intentions, why hadn't he followed through?

I scrubbed harder at the floor, somehow bitter. I scrubbed until my hands turned red and there were slight scrapes rubbed off into blisters by the friction of the dripping rag.

"Don't do that," I perked up to see Alexander occupying the washroom doorway, arms crossed.

"You asked me to wax the floors," I said. "That's what I'm doing."

"No, don't scrub it so roughly," Alexander said. "You wonder why you get blisters, it's because you're creating unneeded counteraction and resistance."

Alexander knelt down next to me on the floor of the bathroom and took the cloth from my hands. He dipped it in the bucket and wrung it out, the wax and water spilling onto the floor.

"Let me see your hands," he told me. I slowly offer up my hands to him. He lays the cloth over the water puddle and put my hands on top of it. His hands were on top of mine. "Wipe the area with rounding motions," he says. Alexander moved my hands and the cloth in gentle circles. "Don't scrub it; wipe it. Are we understood?"

"Yes," I say.

"Be honest, have you ever cleaned a floor a day in your life?"

"No."

He laughed a little. "Of course not."

"Why; have you?" I shot back.

"Yes, I have. Now continue cleaning for the party tonight."

"Wait, when did you clean floors?"

He shook his head, then stood up and mumbled quietly, "Just get that done," before leaving the washroom.


	15. Oh, Coconuts (Reprise)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Perhaps some quiet before the hurricane

That night after my shower, Alexander wasn't in the room. I couldn't find a proper nightshirt so I found one of his large button-ups in the closet. It wasn't quite as delicate as the shirts I normally wore, but fit well on me and was comfortable nonetheless. I then pulled on my socks and briefs.

I was pulling my wet hair back when I saw Alexander in the mirror, standing behind me. It startled me a bit.

"You're wearing my shirt," Alexander pointed out.

"Not to be technical, but all of the shirts are yours. But, uh, I apologize, I couldn't find the other nightshirts. I will change if you—"

"No," he said quickly, "it suits you. It was a bit large on me anyhow..." he trailed off and sighed. I crawled into bed, him following after he changed and turned out the lights.

"John?" he whispered.

"Yes?" I inquired. He stayed silent for a moment.

"Will you— no, never mind," he said at last. I rolled over and pull the blanket over my shoulders, curling into the bed.

• • •

In the morning, Alexander's hand was on my pillow, but nothing more. I laid there silently, not getting out of bed on account of the last time I did that, which he apparently didn't like. I laid awake until I felt him shift. When Alexander got out of bed, I pretended to just now be awakening.

"Morning," he said simply. I clutched onto the sheets and stretched before climbing out of bed. I literally tripped over my feet going to the divider to change. I heard Alexander shifting as he changed while I tied the bow in my hair. I waited for him to sound done changing to emerge.

“Dammit, I can’t even walk,” I muttered to myself.

Alexander must’ve heard me, because I heard him laugh at this. “A fish out of water.”

“Damn you, you’re the same way!”

“Ah, I am, you caught me,” he chuckled.

"Right, pardon me, at what time will the party be?" I asked.

"It will start at six. Peggy told me she spoke to you last time?"

"Yes, very briefly," I say. Alexander shivered slightly and undid his tie, going to redo it.

"Did she say anything interesting?"

"Not really," I fibbed. “Just a complaint about her sisters."

"Typical," he mumbled. "Well, as long as that's all she said, you can go along your way cleaning now."

"Alright."

"Wait, John."

"Yes?"

"Burr will be visiting before the party. After lunch I expect you to be downstairs to wait on us, understood?" Alexander asked. He groaned and undid his tie again.

"Yes, I understand," I nodded. I stood there for a moment longer, watching him struggle with the tie. "Trouble?" I teased lightly. He turned his attention to me and glared. I opened my mouth to offer to help him, staying frozen for a moment, and finally getting the words out. "Do you need help?"

"Don't deter me, John," he said a bit pridefully. I chuckled a little bit and walked towards him.

"No, I mean it, I'll help you tie it," I offered, showing him that I was being genuine. He looked up at me and sighed, letting his hands fall in defeat. I tied the tie quickly, having years of doing so under my belt. Alexander smiled at me shyly and it caught me off guard. "I... should go," I mumbled, turning and going towards the door.

"Wait," he stopped me. I stood still and turned back, still in the doorway. "Uh, thank you, John," he motioned to his tie, "I'm usually not this hindered, per se, when it comes to tying my own tie. So, thank you,"

I sighed, looking away again. "You're welcome," 

I go on downstairs after putting on my shoes to eat breakfast. Things were rather quiet. I spoke up, "Theodosia,"

"Yes?" She looked up from her oatmeal.

"Mr. Hamilton informed me that Mr. Burr will be visiting again before the party," I smirked. She blushed and averted her eyes.

"He usually does," she said, a slight giggle in her tone. Sally started giggling as well. I continued to eat my oatmeal with a smirk.

• • •

Sometime that day, I caught Martha in the ballroom, watering a pot with some green leaves and small budding orchids. “Martha?”

“Oh— John, hello.” She smiled. “Are you alright?”

“Yes, I just wanted to ask you about something,” I said as she handed me the catering can, hanging the pot back up in the window. “It’s about Mr. Hamilton, but you have to swear discretion to me.”

“I swear. I have nobody else to tell anyhow,” she shrugged and smiled reassuringly, taking down a different pot and taking the watering can from me to water the plant. “Go on, now, we don’t have all day. I’m sure that Mr. Burr will be here soon.”

“Right, yes, uh... please, do not think less of me, but I am a homosexual. I’ve known since before I got arrested,” I trailed off and she simply nodded, hanging the second plant and taking down the third one. “But that is not what I wanted to talk about. I think I like Mr. Hamilton.”

“You— oh. All right,” she said, a bit distracted, “that’s... why?" "I don't know." "And after all he's done to you...?" "I know, I know," I said quickly. "Maybe it's a good thing. Does he show affection back?”

“Yes, I suppose. I’m still apprehensive, perhaps, with having sexual relations with him but I think I like him as a person, as a friend. He shows kindness and partiality to me— do not think me special, I do not try to be— and I find myself showing kindness back. Somewhat of a joking environment as well, and he doesn’t get upset.”

“That’s good then, John. You should embrace it.”

“Should I?”

“Only if—”

“John!” there came a shout and I flinched, turning to see Alexander marching into the ballroom. He seized me by the arm, coaxing me away. “I need you, come on.”

I shot a look to Martha, who shook her head. I turned back to Alexander, resisting his hold on me a bit. When we were out of the ballroom I pulled away.

“What is it? Come, John, we haven’t got all day, Burr will be here soon—”

“I was in the middle of a conversation,” I argued. 

“I don’t give a shit about your conversation. You’re not even supposed to be downstairs,” he shot back, going again for my arm. I attempted to evade it but he held on to my wrist. I stared Alexander dead in the eyes, out faces a bit too close. “Rude,” I muttered under my breath. There felt a moment where we both leaned closer against our conscious minds, but Alexander moved his face away as if he had been shocked. He blinked and began pulling me roughly towards the parlor again. I sighed, complying with an eye roll.

• • •

"Coconut martini, sir?" I asked Burr, my hands limp at my sides.

"Yes, please," he said. Alexander looked between him and I and looked back at Mr. Burr.

I turned to Alexander. “Anything in particular for you, or just white wine, sir?" I asked. I was getting pretty good at waiting on people, though I wasn't sure if that was an asset so much as it was a gnawing fear of being punished.

"Just one glass will do," he says to me.

"Yes, sir," I go to the kitchen. Theodosia already had the martini ready and is was blushing immensely as she iced a cake with an off-white frosting. "What flavor?" I asked.

"Red velvet and cream cheese. Mr. Hamilton hates traditional and refuses to serve it," she says with a smile. It was funny to watch somebody be so excited and in love that they couldn't stop smiling.

I brought the martini and wine out to Alexander and Mr. Burr, who took one sip and turned his head with a disgusted face.

"This is repulsive. I'm going to have a word with your cook," Mr. Burr said in a disgusted tone. It startled me at first but I quickly realized what his true plan was.

“Burr,” Alexander warned.

“I will just prompt her to prepare a new one,” Burr assured him, getting up.

I stood there awkwardly while Alexander sipped his wine. I heard shuffling and giggles in the kitchen that were much too loud. Alexander turned his gaze to the kitchen door and I quickly spoke up to get his attention, "Mr. Hamilton, Sir!" I said too loudly, hands behind my back.

"Yes, John?" he looked up at me. I cleared my throat and tried to think of something to say.

"Uh, if you don't mind my asking," I spoke, "why do you hold these parties?"

"Oh," he said. There was another giggle from the kitchen so I coughed loudly to mask it. “John, is something going on?"

"No," I said. I hope I wasn't breaking a sweat, the thought of him catching me in a lie terrified me.

"What was that?" He turned to the kitchen once again and I quickly walked over to the sofa and sat next to him.

"Sir," I tried to play up a light tone as best as possible, "please, answer my question."

"Are you ordering me?" He raised an eyebrow. I laughed nervously.

"No— I simply... implore you, sir." Shit. If I get in trouble trying to distract Alexander from Theodosia's antics, I swear I will never forgive her. Things are going good with Alexander and I don't need to fuck it up. "I'm just curious," I said.

"I hold parties because that's what's expected of me," Alexander said, "truth be told, I don't like people. I do, however, like the bragging rights of throwing the best parties."

Of course. I know this already. He obviously isn't a people person, but I know the reason most billionaires hold parties. It's a thing the wealthy like as if it were a competition. My father often held parties when I lived under his roof. That is, until I was arrested and sold into slavery. I certainly am living the high life.

When there was silence I quickly said, "Where are you from?"

"Does it matter?"

"Of course it does. I'm from South Carolina, as you know," I relaxed a little, leaning towards him, "but I've traveled all over Europe as well. In newspapers I've heard that you're from the Caribbean, though I've never been there, so you'll have to tell me about it."

"Yes, I'm from the Caribbean. Small island," he looked at me as if he were picturing his home, deep in thought, "not anything special. You've likely never heard of it anyhow. Most people haven't. But where I come from, my political opponents like to use my home to slander me; say I'm not worthy for America."

"I don't believe that," I answered him truthfully.

Alexander sighed, leaning his head in his hand which was by my head, and then mumbled with a little bit of a frown, "really?"

"Yes, really," I told him. My hand moved to his lap and I laid it on top of his hand reassuringly. "Where you come from doesn't define you. America is a land of opportunity, and to deny somebody that right goes against what we, as a nation, should believe. And, I believe that we all have greatness within somewhere."

"Thank you," Alexander smiled, flipping his hand to hold mine. I went to hold it but suddenly, Burr came out of the kitchen, holding what looked like the same martini. I stood up quickly and moved away from Alexander.

"This martini is much better," he cleared his throat and sat down.

"What took you so long?" Alexander asked.

"She had to make a whole new drink, Alexander. Cut her some slack. Enough about me, what's going on between you and the Laurens son?" He looked up at me.

"John," Alexander cleared his throat, "I recommend you help the girls in the kitchen with the cakes."

"Right, uh... yes, Sir."

I to the kitchen where Theodosia was having a heart attack and Sally was trying to ice the cake without dying.

"What the hell happened?" I hissed.

"Shameless courting," Sally groaned, "don't even ask her or else she'll die of a stroke."

"Oh, John!" Theodosia squealed, "he's such a sweet man!"

"You're a coquette," Sally said to her.

"I'm sure he is— a sweet man, that is, not a coquette," I corrected, picking up a package of frosting, "but I almost got in trouble for covering you."

"What happened?" Sally asked.

"I had to keep him distracted from Theodosia's excessive giggling. So, I asked him about the reason he throws parties and then he asked if I was hiding something from him. Of course, I denied it and quickly sat down on the couch next to him and told him to tell me the reason which he thought was demanding so he commented on it. Luckily Mr. Burr came out of the kitchen before it escalated," I say in one breath. I left out there part where we actually had a pleasant conversation and where we almost held hands.

"Oh, I'm so sorry!" Theodosia whispered, "I don't want you getting in trouble because of me."

"Look, Theodosia, just be more careful next time. I don't know how much longer I can risk getting in trouble."

"Mr. Hamilton favors you anyhow," she pouted.

"No, he doesn't," I said, knowing it was a blatant lie.

"Then why is he so much more forgiving to you than he is to others? Plus you sleep in his bed. If somebody, say, Charles Lee, had yelled at him like you, he would've beaten him to a pulp."

"But he did hit me—"

"Please! That's nothing," she hissed. Then she sighed, "I'm sorry, John, I didn't mean to get upset with your or make your issues any less important, it's just clear that he favors you."

"I still think he... nevermind," I muttered, beginning to ice a cake. In actuality, the fear of him only wanting sex faded greatly, but I had to have some sort of argument. Even if I felt like Alexander was a friend... a kind man who hid it.

"I told you before... if he wanted sex, he would have taken it in a heartbeat. He must feel at least a little bit of favor."

"Theodosia," I sighed, "have you ever stopped to consider that perhaps he favors me because of my body? Perhaps he wants me in particular not because of who I am, which he doesn't even know, but because of what I look like?"

That shut her up. I took a deep breath and began again, quietly.

"I asked him if he favors me," I tell her, "his response was that he does. ...But nobody can protect me from him. If he wants sex, he will, in fact, take it, I'm sure. Homosexuality will not only taint a career but will ruin it, so if I ever uttered a word, he'd surely take me down with him. I can't say anything to anybody about it."

"Okay, consider for a moment that he does favor you, physically," she says, "is that such a horrible thing? He favors you at least, so you could find a way to use that your advantage easily. Such as sleeping in his bed and being properly cared for and... being loved, almost, even if it's in simply a physical way."

"You really think he's capable of love?"

"It can still be love, even if it's physical..."

"You don't want emotional love?" I whisper.

"Of course I do!" Theodosia said quickly, "I just think that when life gives you a gift, don't take it for granted and refuse it because it's not what you were hoping for. I feel sometimes that even Aaron only wants me for my body."

"So I should let him love me for my body? Feeling empty and cold, just letting him take control of me?"

"John," Sally spoke up, "I know you're afraid, but what you have right now with Alexander is going better than any of our situations. Take advantage of it, don't be stupid."

"Sally—“

"Hush," she walked to me and hugged me tightly, "I know things are difficult, but at least things are alright, you know? Things could be worse. Take what you're given."

I hugged her closer and Theodosia set down her wooden spoon to join the hug.


	16. Party (Reprise)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jefferson is, and always will be, an asshole; more Peggy; also philosophy is nice

Peggy came back around wearing a gold gown this time, which shimmered in the light of the dining room. It was longer and draped loosely over her body, exposing much of her back. Her hair was, once again, up in a white bow and her pearls dangled from her neck and ears. She took another drink from my tray.

"Miss Schuyler, that's your sixth one tonight," I said. She just laughed at me.

"What a pity, I'm still sober!"

"Are you sure?" I cocked an eyebrow.

"Very," she pouted her lips, "hey, are you that man I met the last party?"

"Yes," I say.

"Aw! You’re dressed like a woman!" she giggled. "Though upon further inspections..." she trailed off and stared at me before breaking into another fit of giggles, "obviously a man!" and slipped away into the crowd. I groan and continue to wait on people. Theodosia was basically following Burr all night and multiple men had groped me. I'm sure most were too tipsy to realize I was a man. Or maybe they had realized.

It made me sad that it was more socially acceptable to grope a woman than it was to have a consensual relationship with another man. The only reason people didn't raise heads at Alexander was that it was acceptable to have a relationship with somebody who was the same gender if one is a slave. Sex between slaves and masters is considered pleasure for the owner while the slave is the object. It wasn't remarkable that they don't cast it out as homosexuality.

I had only seen Alexander once and it was making me a bit apprehensive. I had to sleep in his bed and the thought of him being drunk made me pissed. I told myself that I didn't want sexual relations... even if Alexander was great at conversation, funny, and actually nice sometimes... maybe even kind of handsome, short and angry with dark eyes and dark hair, tan skin, pale lips... shit, I’m doing it again.

"Sally?" I whispered. She was about to bring more cake out to the dining room.

"Yes?" She turned to me. She had large bags under her eyes. I had nostalgia, Alexander appearing in my mind. I brushed the thought away.

"Do you want to go to bed? I'll take over your job," I said.

"But John, you must be catering drinks!" she replied.

"Well, you two are right," I shrugged, "Mr. Hamilton does have partiality towards me. I'm sure he won't mind."

"I don't want you getting in trouble because of me," she whispered.

"I'll be fine, he won't do shit," I insisted.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, Sally, just get some rest, alright?"

"Thanks, John," she smiled, handing me the cake. I held it in my hand and she pecked my cheek before using the back door to go outside. Lamenting, I took the cake in one hand and the tray of drinks in the other. I had to maneuver through a crowd of people to get to the dining room.

Thomas Jefferson groped my ass. He said something to me but I didn't quite catch it. I just held my platter of drinks up for people to take them.

When I came back around, I slammed face-first into him, the cake spilling all over his suit. People began to back up as he slapped me across the face with the back of his hand, so hard that I fell to the floor.

"S-Sir, I apologize," I slurred from the floor. The chatter began to quiet down. I told myself not to panic in front of these people. He scowled at me, panting laboriously. He got on top of me and raised his fist. I smelled alcohol. I twisted and moved my head quickly, watching out of my peripheral vision as his fist connected to the carpet. I breathed out and pushed against him. Rather promptly, somebody intervened.

It was Alexander, who grabbed me by the collar of the dress and pulled me to my feet. He dragged me through the crowds of people without saying anything, people moving out of his way. The room began to speak again quietly. He pulled me upstairs and into his bedroom.

I didn't want Alexander to be angry at me, not when things were going so well. 

"What the hell was that?" Alexander hissed. I fell to my knees on the floor and tried to stop the tears before they could start. "Why were you even carrying cakes?! That is Sally's responsibility!"

I couldn't form words.

"John!" he yelled. "Answer me! Get on your feet and answer me!"

"Don't punish her," I said quickly, "it was my fault! Don't punish her!"

“What the hell happened?” He grabbed my chin, forcing me to him in the eyes. I grabbed his arms, sinking further to the floor.

“You can’t yell at her. Don’t hurt her, if you’re going to punish somebody, I beg you— punish me. It was my fault. Not her’s.”

Alexander ran his fingers through his hair and pulled me to my feet. He brought me to the bathroom and told me to strip and shower quickly while he went downstairs to tie up the aftermath.

I began to cry in the shower. Thoughts of his anger, how he could hurt me and yell at me. I hated it when he yelled. I hated yelling. I hated when my father yelled and I hated it when other slave owners yelled and I hated it when the prison security yelled. I hated when people could just push me around and yell at me when I didn't do anything wrong. I yell a lot, too. I hate that side of me, sometimes, the side that got angry. 

I got angry at a slave, once. I was probably about sixteen, I had just lost my mother and spent sixteen years of my life, of course, watching men be cruel to slaves. So, when a slave frustrated me, I shouted and called him worthless. I slapped him across the face. The slave was taller than I (and damn, did he have muscles) and could likely beat me to a pulp, but he then again, couldn't. He couldn't even say anything about how I hit him.

When I saw the anger flash in his eyes and fade as he turned away, I realized how awful I looked. My little brother, James, saw it. He must have been so horrified... he didn't talk to me for a month.

I apologized to the slave. Truly, I didn't know why I had done it. I liked him. He was always nice to me and I was nice back. My whole life I had tried to find empathy for slaves and I wanted to help them, even though I was taught my whole life that slaves are criminals. But now, as a slave...

Upon the realization that on that day, I had acted like Thomas Jefferson, I scrubbed my body harder, angrily sobbing. As if I could get some relief, some sort of cleansing from scrubbing until my skin was red.

I washed the wine off of my body and let the water run down my face as I cried quietly. My tears mixed with the clean drops of water.

When I finished I dried myself off and grabbed the robe. I had stopped crying. I felt a bit better after the shower, but a red mark was on the side of my face where Jefferson slapped me. It was much harder than when Alexander slapped me several weeks ago. Alexander's felt like a playful pinch compared to Jefferson's. In addition, Jefferson was wearing a ring; several, actually.

I changed into a pair of pants and a shirt. I stared at myself in the mirror for a while, wondering what I ever did to deserve this life. I imagined all the things Alexander would do to me when he returned from the party. Which happened to be not long, as he came into the room composedly as if not to disturb my tranquil thoughts.

I told myself to be strong. I can't show weakness.

"Hamilton," I said, unsure what I would say after.

"Come here," he whispered after closing the door. I walked to him carefully, my footsteps not making any noise due to my socks. I stood before him, my hands curled against my chest. I uncurled them and instead simply crossed them, standing my ground. I held my breath and looked him in the eyes. If I didn't look him in the eyes he'd just make me anyhow. And, he always seemed to soften when I looked him in the eyes. "John, tell me again what happened downstairs. Calmly," he commanded.

"All right," I mumbled. "Sally looked very tired and overwhelmed, so I told her to go to her quarters early. She insisted against it but I convinced her. Please, if you're going to punish somebody, punish me. I don't want her getting in trouble because I was being stubborn."

"What happened with Thomas?" He furrowed his eyebrows.

"He continuously was harassing me and groping me. He, uh... grabbed my ass, and I accidentally turned around and the cake spilled on him. He then slapped me and the wine spilled all over me. He was going to hit me more but... you intervened."

"John," he mumbled, wiping his hands over his face. His hand raised and I flinched, raised my arms in defense, thinking he was about to hit me. Instead, Alexander grabbed my shoulder and looked me in the eyes, exasperated. "What am I going to do with you?" he said in a quiet voice. I couldn't smell alcohol, which relieved me.

"Are you angry with me?"

"No. I told you, I won't allow Thomas to hurt you again. I'm sorry he even had the chance to slap you. He was drunk, though I don't suppose that's any excuse for it."

"I'm sorry." I grumbled, "I don't know why he was so upset. He's wealthy and can buy a new suit, and I didn't mean to embarrass him."

"He— never mind. Go on to bed. The party will be over soon and I'll be up by then," Alexander mumbled. There was a beat of silence before he spoke up, seemingly focused on my hands. "No, wait for a moment."

I stood still as he went to the closet and came back with rope. I felt my throat tighten and built-up tears threatening to slip from my eyes. Take what you're given. "What the hell...?" I murmured, making eye contact with him.

"Don't fret," Alexander told me as he tied the rough ropes around my wrists so tightly it hurt. "My intentions are not anything to do with harming you. Now go on to bed," I nodded as he left the room, then I crawled into bed. He shut off the lights. 

When he came back upstairs, I was still awake. The party had quieted long ago and people were leaving in their automobiles. He didn't say anything as he changed and collapsed into bed next to me.

I still couldn't sleep.

"Hamilton," I mumbled.

"Yes?" He rolled over and faced me. I couldn't make out his features in the dark.

"I know you said you are not angry, but I am confused for your motive... the rope, that is. Are— are you going to punish me tomorrow?"

"No, John," he answered, sounding exasperated. I felt his hand on my shoulder, rubbing in circles.

"Why not?"

"You made a simple mistake. Even if Thomas says—"

"What did Jefferson say?" I asked. "You must have spoken to him."

"All he asked was where you were," he huffed.

"What was your reply?"

"I told him—" he paused and groaned a little, "something that I'm not going to tell you."

"What? Why not?" I asked. I sat up in bed, almost tipping over from not being able to properly support myself with my hands being bound.

"John— lay back down."

"But I deserve to know what—"

"I said lay down," he commanded, grabbing my shoulders and pushing me down onto the bed. I groaned and stayed glued to the matress. "Stop asking questions. Go to sleep, John," Alexander said at last.

"Fine," I mumbled and then repeated, "Fine," while turning over onto my side, facing away from him.

"I'm sorry, I just..." he groaned a bit. There was a moment of silence. “Thomas was drunk, all right? He’s not usually so violent.”

“Sure.”

"Don't be bitter."

"I can't help that I'm bitter," I said. Alexander shifted in bed and sighed heavily.

Later that night, I still couldn't sleep, so I rolled over and moved my bound hands to touch his shoulder.

"Hamilton," I whispered. Alexander turned over to face me, my hands lingering on his arm. I pulled them back.

"Yes?" he asked quietly.

"I can't sleep," I told him. "Will you tell me more about your home?"

"John..."

"Please?"

He sighed, moving one of his hands up and onto the back of my neck loosely. Alexander smiled a bit and spoke softly, "What do you want to know?"

"Anything. What's it like to live on an island?"

"It's... serene. But lonely. Serenity often brings loneliness. Lots of ocean and boats. The island was small... I used to play with my friends in the trees, chasing one another. But that got a bit boring to me. I grew up too quickly. I read a lot..."

"Were you still on the island during the war?" I asked. He nodded. "I wanted to enlist, but my father wouldn't let me. And he did everything he could to be sure that I couldn't be drafted, either."

"Were you living with your father when you were arrested?"

"Yes," I admitted. "What I got arrested for... it was easier to achieve when I lived with him. He wanted to send me to some school in London, but I refused."

"I see. What would you have studied?" he asked, his hand moving down my back slowly. It comforted me a little bit and I smiled.

"Law. My father wanted me to be a lawyer or work in politics; but I wanted to be a doctor. The best compromise was staying behind in Carolina and working for him."

"I see," he said. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be," I mumbled. "We all end up in the same place, don't we?"

"And where's that?"

"Hell."

Alexander tensed and moved his hand up to hold onto my shoulder. "Why's that?"

"Because if there is a hell and heaven, and if it is as the Bible says, then we're all going to hell. We all have committed sinful crimes."

"John, you should talk more of philosophy with me sometime," Alexander grinned a little. "I enjoy that sort of discussion."

"As do I," I told him, burying my face in the pillow and curling up a little. "I'm going to bed, now."

"Alright," his hand stayed on my back, "goodnight."

"Goodnight."

Take what you're given.


	17. Colleague (Reprise)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jefferson is bad news 24/7; this changes everything

When I woke up, I was in his arms. It startled me but this time I didn't pull away. His breath was warm on my head; he had his hands on my waist loosely. I rest my hands on his chest and closed my eyes again. I allowed it only because it was comfortable, and he was being kind to me last night when we were talking...

When I woke up the second time, Alexander was awake. He was just sort of watching me as if he were considering something—plotting something. I shifted and yawned to show him I was awake.

"Good morning," Alexander mumbled. I sat up in bed.

"Hey— morning," I replied quietly. He sighed heavily and looked down at his hands.

"So, Thomas will be visiting again briefly for today," Alexander mumbled. I felt my face flush.

"May I ask what for?" I said as politely as possible.

"Matters we must discuss," he answered plainly.

"Of course."

"Nothing will happen today, I am sure of it," he sighed and looked back up at me, putting a hand on my knee, "you will not be in any room alone with him at any point in time, nor will you be clumsy as before. Can you promise me that and another thing?"

"Yes, I promise."

"In addition," his hand moved up my knee and rest on my thigh, "I'd like you to be sure that you are very careful. Do not speak unless spoken to. I'm sure you've learned by now that Thomas is much more brutal than I and does not take kindly to the slightest malfunction of order."

"All right," I whispered. I cut my eyes to where his hand stayed on my thigh. My cheeks stayed hot for a moment. Alexander seemed to notice this and he pulled away slowly.

He untied my wrists. There were large red indents from where the rope was.

"Good," he slid off the bed. "Well, off to get dressed now."

"Right."

"When you are dressed, present me your hands."

"Alright," I mumbled. I hated how quiet I had gotten since I've been here.

So, after I was dressed, I held my hands out to Alexander. He took them and looked at them as if he were to be studying them.

"May I ask why you tied my hands?" I inquired warily. He sighed.

"You don't want to know. But I can promise you that it wasn't to harm you. Perhaps you will find out today, but hopefully not. Hopefully not ever. Though I know you're clever, and I doubt you will stay oblivious long."

"Then why not just tell me?"

"I don't want to be the one to deliver the news. Wear gloves today, don't let the women know about the rope," he told me. I nodded and went back to get the gloves.

• • •

"Do you remember what I said this morning?" Alexander whispered, his hands cupping my jaw and holding my face tipped down towards him, as if he were inspecting me, almost.

"Yes," I whispered.

"Will you be sure to behave?"

"Yes," I repeated. Behave. Sure. Like I'm some animal.

"Thank you," Alexander mumbled. "Thomas hit you really hard."

"Sure," I said quietly. That's why he must've been looking at on my face— the handprint. "I'm fine, though."

"I hate it when you say that."

"Why?"

"Because you're obviously not fine. Just tell the truth, John, it hurt. It hurts," he corrected. :"What's the problem with telling the truth and admitting that it hurts?"

"I don't know, what's the problem with telling me why you tied my hands?" I paused and crossed my arms. He didn't answer. "Cowardice, that's the problem. Let us both uphold our pride for now."

"All right." He let his hands slip away. In an even softer tone, stepping a bit closer to me, Alexander murmured, "Believe me when I say that anything I say to Jefferson is likely a lie, all right? Will you be sure to keep that in mind?"

"What?" 

"If I do or say something, just ignore it, please... please." 

"Oh— okay," I whispered. 

"Please, go along with it if need be. Follow my lead, be silent, act afraid..."

"Why?" 

"Because I don't want you getting hurt again," he said. I felt myself laugh bitterly. "John, I'm being sincere. Do as I say, go along with it all, I swear there's motive." 

I shook my head slowly. "Whatever."

"...Thank you."

• • • 

When Jefferson arrived, his eyes went straight to me. He didn't say a word. I stayed silent, hands folded in front of me. I stood closer to Alexander than Jefferson.

"You said you had punished him," Jefferson eyed me up and down, amused. "He doesn't look marked. Other than the handprint, of course, but I'll gladly take custody of that."

"Thomas," he glared, "I told you I punished him, take my word."

"Prove it."

"I told you—"

"Even something like that prompts some sort of physical evidence. So unless that sodomitical whore liked it, tell me. Where's your proof?"

"Thomas, that—"

"Hamilton, you've been a little bitch ever since we met. I will take matters into my own hands if you don't prove to me that you punished that slave like you should have," he hissed. I flinched and bowed my head, being forced to lay all of my trust on Alexander in hopes that he'd protect me from mistreatment.

"He is not your slave. You don't get to punish him," Alexander growled.

"I am still your superior, no matter how much power you've accumulated over the past couple of years. I will destroy you in the press if you don't prove to me that you're not a slave sympathizer."

"John, come here," Alexander said, at last, eyes still focused on Jefferson. I felt my breath catch in my throat as I walked next to him. I said nothing. "Thomas, I told you last evening that I punished him. I told you I did it in a way that would not leave a mark."

My face went red and my heart beat quickened its pace. I felt like an idiot— how the hell could I not have guessed?

"John, take off your gloves,"

I flinched and obeyed. It was better than whatever would happen to me if I disobeyed his orders. My wrists had red burn marks from the rope. The skin was turning the slightest bit blue and yellow.

"You see there, Thomas?" Alexander held up my hands and displayed them to the other man.

"Alexander Hamilton, are those rope burns?" Jefferson smirked as if he were proud. Alexander groaned slightly and dropped my hands. I felt a bit dizzy, knowing now why he had bound my hands, knowing it would leave a mark and knowing that he could pretend he forced himself on me rather than beating me. It was sickeningly smart. He took it into his hands to exceed measures that would prevent actually hurting me. He could have easily taken advantage of my hands being tied last night but instead, he just held me while I slept and talked to me about his home. My mind repeated a chorus of "holy shit" over and over again as I stood there blankly.

"Yes, Thomas, they are," Alexander said in a disturbed tone, "John, bring out red and white wine."

"Yes, Sir," I mumbled. When in the kitchen, I stopped by the door to see if I could hear their conversation at all. After a moment, I heard Jefferson say:

"I can see your game, Hamilton."

"What? What game?" Alexander asked, sounding offended.

"That man— John Laurens— I know why you bought him. And I'll give you this, you're clever."

"Jesus, Thomas, I don't know what you mean."

"Uh-huh, sure," Jefferson scoffed, "you know he was a slave sympathizer before he got arrested, right? Teach him a little lesson, then. Show him that he gets nowhere in life playing the good guy. But, you're afraid."

"What of?" Alexander scoffed, sounding as though he had been caught off-guard

"You're afraid of him. He's not some weak little girl, you can't toss him around. You're afraid that you'll lose control— so, you made him a weak little girl. I can see your game. Putting him in a dress, having sex with him instead of hitting him so that you look like the good guy? Admit it, Alex, you're a coward."

"Coward," Alexander just growled under his breath, "Shut up, Jefferson. You wouldn't know bravery if it hit you in the face."

"If you're so brave, then why don't you prove to me that you have control of him? Huh?"

"Jefferson."

"Come on, Hamilton. You're not going to let some slave push you around, are you?"

"...What do you want me to do, then?"

"You know what to do. Show me you have him under control."

I leaned away from the door. I couldn't stand to listen to their bickering. When I turned, Martha quickly went to me.

"What happened after the party last night?" she whispered intensely. I bit my lip. "I saw what happened with Jefferson... and the way Hamilton dragged you upstairs... and how he just displayed the marks on your hands to him. Are you alright?"

"I'm fine," I said. I didn't want to get distracted from my one and only task to bring out the wine.

I poured it without spillage. Alexander motioned for me to come to him. Jefferson watched carefully as he ordered me to sit in his lap. Wincing slightly, I did so without question. He grumbled something of another about me being heavier than I looked and sighing, looking up at me intently. I looked away, refraining from saying anything rude. Not with Jefferson in the room.

Alexander drew his lips to my ear. "Put your head on my shoulder," he mumbled so quietly that not even Jefferson heard.

"Seriously?" I whispered back, glaring. He pleadingly looked at me and nodded. I rolled my eyes.

I reluctantly laid my head on his shoulder, hugging him. It was like suddenly he was the last thing I could hold on to or else I'd be dragged into oblivion. I was so goddamn afraid, but now it was like he was all I had left. I felt sick.

"You trained him well," Jefferson said, amused, "and it only took you three months,"

Three months? I've been here that long?

"He's a good boy," Alexander mumbled. He sounded disgusted as his hands rested on my hips. Well, it was respect...

The two continued to talk. Business, money, rates, more money, slaves, costs, money, money, money, all boring stuff that I blocked out. If I had an opinion on something, I had to keep it suppressed or else I would end up in deep shit. I kept my head on his shoulder and my arms around him. The position was comfortable and I could have fallen asleep— if it wasn't also embarrassing and awkward to be displayed like a sex toy on his lap; like some whore.

"Was last night his first time?" I heard Jefferson say.

Alexander seemed like he was trying to find a correct answer to the question.

"Yes," he mumbled.

"And you didn't have to hit him to make him behave. I'm impressed," Jefferson mused. I ground my teeth.

"No, I didn't. I just bound his hands to be sure."

"I'm sure he cried, though, he looks like one to—"

"Thomas," Alexander cut him off. I curled my fingers into his back and held onto him more tightly. 

"What? I'm just saying. He definitely looks like the type to cry. 'Mr. Hamilton,'" he mimicked a whiny voice, "'please, don't hurt me!' And then after the sixth time or so it'll be 'I love you, Mr. Hamilton' and—" 

"Would you shut the hell up!?" I head Jefferson sip his wine and set the glass down. 

I mumbled something under my breath that resembled "Jesus Christ..." feeling sick to my stomach. I could feel how tightly Alexander was holding on to me. 

Jefferson went on, "I bet it breaks your heart to watch him writhe and sob, begging you—" 

"Fucking stop! Stop. Listen, Thomas, the details of it are none of your business. You know I did it so just stop."

"Aw, so you do feel bad, don't you?" Jefferson had fake sympathy in his voice.

"N-no. I don't. I would simply prefer not to reveal grotesque details of a private matter."

"Very well, Alexander."


	18. Slave’s Interlude

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John’s masculinity is teetering and he’s not okay with it

I wanted to get off of Alexander’s lap. I wanted to push him away and be by myself. I wanted— no, I needed— to be strong. Instead, when Thomas Jefferson left, I found myself I hugging Alexander tightly, not wanting him to get off the sofa and leave me to clean.

"Goddammit," I muttered, feeling my stomach twist in knots as I realized how I was clinging to him. I began to pull away when Alexander pressed his lips to mine.

I've never had a kiss like this before. Of course, I've kissed people, but it never felt so real, yet simultaneously surreal.

His lips were soft and forceful, but not too forceful; just enough. He had his arms wrapped around my waist when he kissed me. So tenderly, the feeling of his lips almost chaste.

When I finally pulled away, I just stared back at Alexander. He didn't say anything for a while.

"I apologize," Alexander whispered at last. "I apologize a million times. For Jefferson, for what I had to say to get out of hurting you. For letting you hear such crude, untrue things, I am so, so sorry."

"I—" I didn't know what to say. He just kissed me! 

And I didn't know how to feel. I suppose, if I'm already doing somewhat sexual things with him and he told his colleague I was, then... what was one kiss? 

In private, that is...

Shit.

I didn't respond. I just tried to calm down after the crash of events.

I kissed him again. I kissed him desperately, my lips veering away and going to his neck as I snuggled him, holding on to him. I moved back up again and kissed the top of his head, exposing my neck. Alexander was kissing me on the neck, his hands moving up my back and holding even more tightly. It was slow but audacious. We eventually slowed and I breathed shallowly, my face resting by his.

"Remember what matters, John," he whispered, lips by my ear as we both panted, "what matters is the truth."

"Yes," I said quietly. Alexander sighed and ran his hands up and down my back. "Truth."

"Come, lie down," he whispered, helping me up and leaning me against his body as we walked up the stairs. "John."

I couldn't quite answer him. I was still in a state of shock.

"John," he repeated, a little more gentle.

"Yes?" I managed to get out. It was barely above a whisper.

"I'm sorry I lied," he told me.

"It's okay, it's just... "

"The thought of it, yes... I know. But I would never."

"Shit, I'm sorry for crying," I heaved and wiped my eyes. I brushed up against his body. I never realized he held such a comforting scent and aura. He laid down next to me on his bed, lips on my neck though he wasn't kissing. "Will you lie here with me? Stay here?" I asked cautiously. Alexander hugged my waist.

"Don't let down your guard," he mumbled a little while later. "I'm still a cold-hearted rich man... I still own you. Why don't you realize that?"

"I... I do realize that."

"Then why the hell are you here?"

"Because I," I bit my lip, "—because I want your comfort."

"Shit... you're lying to yourself, John. You are still my slave no matter how much you think I comfort you. For my sake, if not for your own, don’t forget that. Don’t forget that I’m the bad guy.”

"You're not the bad guy—"

"John, I'm a bad guy."

"Right," I mumbled. I didn't move away from him. I just laid there in silence.


	19. Avoiding Answers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Johnny is totally not a sub ;)

Alexander was cold. Not just internally, but his hands and his cheeks were cold. That made sense, it was Autumn now. It was getting colder. I grew into the habit of accidentally clinging to him when I sleep. He seemed to be fine with it, though he was withdrawn from me. It was as if he didn't want relations with me anymore, his lust doing a complete flip. There was still a hand-print shaped bruise on the side of my face where Jefferson had hit me.

I found comfort in him— his body as I held onto him at night, a warmth not for my body but for my heart. Just the feeling of him being in my arms made me so much more complete. I still cleaned actively yet he didn't flirt like usual. He had stopped pinning me to walls and whispering things to me provocatively. It was, "Yes, Good morning, John, I want you to dust the library," and "Bathe and get right to bed, John," and sometimes, "You need to remember that no matter how sweet you think I am, I am still your master."

Something about it frustrated me slightly. I didn't express this to the women. Theodosia asked me what happened after Jefferson left and I would reply, "nothing," before turning away from her. Technically nothing did happen, and I didn't want to tell her I was kissing and hugging our master because she'd think me as weak and assume things that didn't need to be assumed. She'd taunt me for being right and for knowing that I would take what life had given me.

Once I had finished cleaning Alexander's bedroom, I turned the corner to clean another room upstairs only to hear Alexander speaking to somebody. It startled me at first because I thought he was talking to me. But no, it was a conversation with somebody on the telephone. I couldn't make out the words behind his office door so I decided to knock. I heard shuffling, a mutter, and the phone being set down before he came to the door.

"What is it, John?" he questioned. "You know not to disturb my work."

"Would you like if I hung around with you in your office?"

"Why?" He leaned against the doorway and crossed his arms. I bit my lip.

I said in a low, gravelly tone as I got closer to him, "I promise not to disturb you, I will even clean if you wish and... you know..."

"No, I don't know," Alexander hollowed his cheeks. "Why don't you come on in and tell me?"

I nodded and stepped into his office. I followed him to the sofa, sitting on the dark red fabric. He sat down next to me.

"So, tell me, John," he mumbled, "why did you want to come into my office?"

"I am deprived of anything to do," I said in response. He shifted towards me and his hands were pressed into the sofa cushions on either side of my hips.

"So you dare interrupt my work for personal entertainment?" Alexander uttered, face several inches from mine. I leaned back on the sofa slightly, my arm bent back to support myself. In a split second, I couldn't help it, and my impulsiveness got the best of me as I lunch forward and kiss him. He made a startled noise and kissed back, melting a little. I pulled away and couldn’t help but smile.

"Perhaps," I answer quietly. "Uh, it was my understanding that you were on the telephone prior?"

"Oh, shit," his lips pursed slightly and he got just the smallest amount closer, "you knew I was on the telephone?"

"Just assumed," I say.

"What a bold man you are."

"No, I—"

"Interrupting me, and out of what? Is it longing that you feel?"

"Be decent!" I said quickly as his lips drew towards my neck, "Is the telephone line still connected?"

"Yes, it is," he mumbled, pulling away from where I now laid on the sofa. Alexander got up and picked the phone up. I hear the broken conversation of, "yes, very well," followed moments later by a hurried, "Of course," then a, "And when will that be?" And then, in an impatient tone, "very well," and finally, "No, no, I just was tending to a... misbehaving slave. I should get on that now. Yes. Yes, it is fine. Yes. Okay, goodbye."

When he hung up the phone I was sitting up on the sofa, hugging a throw pillow. I kept my face buried in it as he sat on the edge of the sofa.

"I can go," I told him, standing up and setting the pillow down, "if you are truly busy—"

"No, please, you've already interrupted me," he stood and grabbed my wrist, "why leave now? Come, sit on the sofa again."

"Okay," I obeyed, sitting down on the sofa. He sat down next to me and beckoned me into his lap. I remember how it felt the first time I had been forced to sit in his lap, though this time felt different. I didn't feel as sad or uncomfortable, perhaps a bit awkward but I was consenting it now. I rest my head on his shoulder, feeling comfort in hugging him.

His hands roamed over my figure and traced carefully before pulling me closer to his body and hugging my waist. Alexander rested his lips on my neck as we sat in comfortable silence. The silence lasted a while before his lips moved from my neck and his hands moved up my back. He found the zipper to my dress and began to tug gently.

"What are you doing?" I breathed, moving my head away.

"Shh," Alexander moved his lips back to my neck and laid them there, "I just want to feel your back."

"All right," I mumbled, replacing my head's place on his shoulder. I felt my back become exposed. His cold hands touched my skin and brushed over it. He didn't do so in a dirty way, but just to feel gently.

I felt his brushes slow down as if he were feeling for something. Perhaps he was, in fact, looking for something, whether a physical feature or something unable to be touched. An emotion, possibly.

"What are you feeling for?" I dared to ask under my breath. My head stayed still, my arms around his neck.

"I’m feeling," he whispered, "for the scars."

"Do you suppose they look bad?" I asked.

"Of course. Not in a way that makes you less... how would I put it? Desirable to one, but in a way that it is out of place and should never have existed," Alexander explained.

"Am I desirable to you?" I mumbled. "Do you think I'm desirable?"

"You're attractive," is all he said.

"Do you see me in that way? Or do you play with my emotions for entertainment?"

"Why do you ask?"

"Stop tracing around the question... please. I must know," I pleaded quietly.

"Do you want me to see you in that way?" he asks.

"Respectfully, I asked you first," I said. He wrapped his arms around me and laid me down on the sofa as he climbed over me, arms still holding me.

"Tell me, John."

"I do want to feel desired."

"By whom? By me?"

"I... never said that."

"Now who is tracing around the question, hm?" Alexander touched his lips under my chin. "It will be easier on the both of us if you admit what is obvious."

I hollow my cheeks and suppress excess noises from the soothing touches on my neck by his fiendish lips. "Well, I wish to feel desired," I repeated my previous statement.

"Again, I ask you, John, do you wish to feel desired by me? By your slaver, the person who owns you?"

"Do you desire me, Hamilton?" I asked, frustrated.

"I desire you," he said. I let out a bit of a sigh when his lips trail down my neck. Suddenly realizing that his answer is not satisfactory, I felt my breath hitch.

"But, in what sort of way? Do you desire my body or my person?" I asked as the lips touched my shoulder.

"I told you, I desire you,"

"My body or my person? I need to know," I begged quietly.

"I desire you," he repeated, continuing to kiss.

"Fuck, just tell me!" I growled just a little bit. I nearly forgot this wasn't a normal relationship, but remembered when he stopped kissing and looked up at me.

"Are you trying to snap at me?" he asked. I bit the inside of my cheek. 

“If I snap at you, you deserve it,” I hissed, pushing away from him. He grabbed my waist and pulled me back closer, resting his forehead against my chest. "Fuck you. No, I’m not snapping at you," I muttered angrily, "I wish you'd just tell me."

"Why do you so badly want to know this, John? Would you change your mind on wanting to feel desired if I were to only want your body? And if you do change your mind, and I do want your body, how can you be sure that I would respect that wish?" Alexander asked, his hands on my shoulders.

I breathed, "I don’t want to grovel for an answer from you. Please tell me."

"Perhaps, you didn't hear. I asked you a question, John, answer it. What do you want from me?"

"It is difficult to answer a question that I do not have a clear answer to," I told him. He smirked as if he was waiting for that response.

"You should rest, John," his weight shifted and he got off of my body, "you seem rather tired."

"Why? Why must you play games with me?" I asked, sitting up. My dress sleeves fell off of my shoulders due to the fact that it was unzipped in the back.

He smiled at me, looking me up and down from where I sat on the sofa. After a moment, and after straightening his tie, he knelt down to my level.

"Go rest, John," he whispered. "Sleep on the answer to my question."

"I answered the question!"

"Answer to my satisfaction."

Growling, I grabbed him by the tie and brought him closer, impulsively going to kiss him. I stopped for a split second, just half an inch away from his lips, and pressed mine against his. It was almost sore, tender and raw. We kissed for only a moment. He seemed confused, pulling away and furrowing his eyebrows, my hand still gripping his tie. 

"May I rest on the sofa in here?" I asked, a little breathless.

"Alright," he said, tone lighter and eyes confused. Alexander looked away and I pulled the tie tighter.

“Hey,” I whispered. “Look me in the eyes when I talk to you.”

Alexander gave me a sideways look and I saw him smile a little. 

“What, do you not like when the tables are turned?” I smirked and yanked him forward, kissing him again. His hands found their way to my cheeks as he melted into my body. His knee pressed into the sofa cushion beside me as he slowly lowered himself into my lap. Alexander continued kissing me, my arms wrapping around his waist. I pulled away first, panting lightly into his ear. “Come on now, don’t you have work to do?”

“John,” he whined quietly.

“Uh-uh-uh,” I lectured softly. “Not now, you have work.”

Alexander got off of my lap and stood, panting a bit and rubbing his eyes, looking exasperated. I chuckled at him, shaking my head. Alexander glared at me a bit. “I cannot believe you.”

“Why? Are you embarrassed?”

“...No,” he whispered.

I laughed and laid back down. He stood up straight and walked over to his desk. My back was still exposed although it was pressed against the back of the sofa so I didn't mind as much.

As I drifted off to the sound of his typewriter, my mind tried to process the events that just occurred.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Didn’t expect that shit, didja?


	20. Master’s Interlude

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stubborn motherfuckers

I woke up when Alexander was picking me up off of the loveseat. I was a bit dazed from my nap as I carelessly reached out to him, my knuckles grazing his jaw. I closed my eyes again after hearing him grunt slightly. “You’re heavy,” he added under his breath, kissing my cheek. I hugged tighter around his neck, not fully sure what was happening.

Again, I drifted to wakefulness, feeling my dress being taken off of my body.

"Hamilton," I mumbled, the light hurting my eyes a bit.

"Yes?" I hear his voice from across the room. I manage to focus my eyes, my arms instinctively wrapping around my cold body. I was just wearing my underwear and stockings. Alexander returned from the closet and held up a nightie. "Would this look desirable on you, do you think?"

"The fuck is that?” I muttered, trying to focus my eyes. “Is that lingerie? ...Is it time for bed?" I grumbled quietly, trying to slide off the bed. Alexander put his hand out and had me lift my arms as he pulled the nightie on. It was different than most I wore, I noticed right away as it was sleeveless and soft like the silk sheets. It was red, the same color as the bed. I whimpered and tugged on it a bit.

"I'd say you look desirable," I heard him mumble as he shut off the lights.

“Oh, go fuck yourself,” I grumbled. “Am I desirable for my body, or—"

"Don't ask questions that you aren't prepared to hear the answer to, John," he said.

"Whatever," I mumbled. He pulls me next to him in bed and pulls the covers over both of us. "Please, hold me."

"If I hold you, will you tell yourself that I am holding you because I love you?" he asked.

"The thought never crossed my mind," I told him.

"I know the answer you want to hear, John, but it's not the answer that is logical.”

"So, you want my body?" I whispered.

"I don't know, you tell me. Does it make sense for me to want you emotionally when I don't know anything about you?"

"But you and I, we've been intimate for weeks. You did your best to keep me safe and you know we share a love for literature. You know—"

"That isn't enough substance for loving a person, John," he said softly. I kept my head down.

“I never said, ‘love’. I just want to know if when you hold me, you think of me as an actual human being or not.”

"I will still hold you, because you are desirable. Even if you have to lie to yourself to be okay with it, because I know you want me to hold you even if the darkest part of you knows that it's not in the way you dream," he whispered, arms wrapping around my waist as he hugged my body against his under the blankets. His lips drew to my ear, "Do you want me to lie to you, John?"

"No," I whispered.

"Are you sure?"

"I'm sure," I tell him. "I've lied to myself enough already."

"Good night then."

"...Night.”


	21. Nightmare

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John ponders on his relationship with Alex; Falls asleep on the sofa in his office

This is what happens to people who try to take what life has given them; they get hurt. I tried to accept the fact that Alexander doesn't love me for more than my body, but he was right; I was in denial. I was going to stay in denial until the pain was unbearable.

I laid on the sofa in his office. I let him hold me at night. I let him kiss my neck and my jaw. Why? Because I was telling myself that I was desirable. I was telling myself that he wants me for me. I could fake love until I couldn't tell the difference. I was taking what life was giving me and using it to my advantage. It was an advantage to be favored and to feel desirable and to be his, in a sense that I was important to him.

A part of me still wondered if he ever would love me for me, or if he ever did love me just the slightest bit. If he went so far out of his way to take precautions to keep me safe constantly, how could you say that he doesn't love me? Or even like me?

The thing that frustrated me was his way of words. It was like an amusing game for him to show me affection, whisper sweet words, then remind me that he cannot love me. He loved to play with my heart.

And I couldn't say that I loved him, either. I just grew dependent and attached to him. He was the one person who made me feel comfortable in this large mansion. The girls were nice and all, but they didn't share intimacy with me. The fact that I sleep in Alexander's bed makes me feel like we could be together in another universe, another timeline, another life. Like we were made for one another and it was inevitable that we would end up together, yet he still says he cannot love me. And I cannot love him.

• • •

"John?" Alexander began to pet my cheek. I winced and opened my eyes. I was still on the sofa in his office with him, still in his lap, still in my maid dress which was still pulled off my chest, but no more than that. No nightie, no sex, no bedroom. Just a dream. I shivered, thinking about what I wore in that dream. No way in hell would I ever wear that, if not against my will. I just had a nightmare in which...

“You fell asleep and began to cry, so I pulled you into my lap trying to comfort you. What happened?” he whispered.

“I-I had a nightmare,” I said quickly, swallowing hard, “it’s fine, I’m fine, now.”

“You can tell me,” he whispered, continuing to brush my cheek. I bit my lip.

I squirmed off of his lip and pushed him down onto the couch, kissing him a bit forcefully. He made a small noise and reached out, pushing against my chest.

“John, what the hell?”

“...You want this from me, don’t you?”

“No, not right now. What the hell happened? —In your dream?”

I got off of him and sat next to him. After several minutes of prying, he got me to talk.

“It felt so real, I thought... you made me wear lingerie and you... oh, God,” I felt my breath catch in my throat.

“What’d I do?” He rubbed my knee and kissed me on the cheek again. “It’s okay.”

“I really would rather not say,” I whispered. 

“Please, it’s just me...” he whispered as he touched my cheek, crawling into my lap. I hugged his waist and felt the bile rise in my throat.

“When I told you ‘no’ you hit me... and you pushed me onto the bed, and— and you told me to take what life gives me. You said you would whip me if I didn’t listen to you...”

“John.” He cupped my face, brushing my tears from my eyes gently. Alexander pressed his forehead to mine and mumbled, “John... John, I would never. I swear by it, I promise, I would never do that to you.”

In real life, I'd never act like that. ...And maybe he'd never act like that either. I wouldn't submit myself like that to him, no matter how much I desired his love. And I had confidence that he wouldn't force me into anything, either. After all, he promised he wouldn't.

"Mr. Hamilton," I cleared my throat. He ran his thumbs over my cheeks again.

"John, are you alright? Do you want to eat something?”

"No, no, I'm fine.”

"Shh," he hushed, hugging me tightly and brushing his fingers over my bare back.

"Shit, I-I'm sorry," I muttered, "I didn't mean to be such a drag... I don't mean to cry about this stupid shit, it's just..."

"Shh," he repeated quietly, still holding on to me.

“I should just go now, I’m sorry.” 

“No— please don’t go,” Alexander whispered as he held onto my neck, burying his face in my shoulder. He flipped us, laying me on my back, before resting on top of me. He was much lighter than I anticipated. He held onto me. So, I let my arms wrap around him loosely.

I'd be lying if I said I didn't truly believe that he cares for me.


	22. Lying to Whom?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John’s slowly questioning his sanity

As I wrapped my arms around Alexander, all I could think about was how he must love me. It wouldn't make sense if he didn't. Why would I feel so safe with him if he didn't love me? Why would I trust him? I’ve known him for months now and he’s the only person I’ve ever truly loved. But maybe it wasn’t ‘love’ at all. Maybe I just cared for him very, very deeply.

I've trusted very few people in my life. The fact that Alexander turned out to be one, and the only one at the moment, was shocking. I didn't tell him this, though.

“John?” Alexander whispered wearily, looking up at me. He quickly took off his reading glasses and stretched in the office chair. I shivered— his office was cold and I was only in a shirt and underwear. The bed was warm. 

“You should come to bed,” I told him as I glanced to the clock on the wall. “It’s past midnight.”

“I’m busy,” Alexander reasoned.

“No, you’re not,” I came closer, leaning down and urging him to stand. He groaned. “Come on to bed, it’s so cold in this damned office!”

“I’m not cold.”

Sighing, I slowly leaned over him, wrapping my arms around his neck from behind. “Well, I’m cold,” I reasoned, “if you’ll just come to bed and hold—”

“You can go to bed without me, John. You don’t need me in there with you every day night like we’re some married couple! Jesus Christ.”

I quickly pushed away and stood, crossing my arms. “You are an asshole. Maybe if you were nicer to me then I would’ve given you actually want from me.”

“What do I want from you, John?” he asked, clearly unimpressed.

“You just want my body. All I am is some damn toy—”

“You are not ‘some damn toy,’ John. I never said anything like that.”

"Then stop fucking acting like it!" I huffed and stormed out of the office. He's right, I don’t need him to just fucking sleep.

• • •

Days of empty affection turned to weeks, weeks to months. I suppose, anyway, as I felt the air colder by the day. Autumn was turning to winter quickly. And now I know I love him. God, do I love him. I just wish he’d admit it to me already.

"Do you love me?" I mumbled. "Mr. Hamilton?"

"John, the answer hasn't changed. I don't want to hurt you."

"Then why would you ever—" I shut up and closed my eyes. "Will you ever love me?"

"I can't tell you that," he whispered. I tensed and curled against him closer.

"Do you like lying to me?" I asked, "If lying spares my heart, would you enjoy it? Or would it dig my grave, making me believe a lie so wicked?"

"Your questions don't make sense, John. Go to sleep."

"Fine."

The next day in his office, I grew bored. I hadn't done chores in a while but he didn't seem to mind. So, being bored, I walked to his desk and rest my head on his shoulder.

"John, I'm trying to work. Go away.”

"Alright," I sighed and went back to the sofa.

Later, he took my book out of my hands and set it down on the coffee table before smirking at me and crawling over me on the sofa. I accepted his kisses and eventually, he just hugged me and flipped us over so I was laying on top of him. I rest my head on his chest, allowing myself to find comfort in his rhythmic breathing. 

I leaned up and kissed his neck, loosening his tie a bit. Alexander held onto my hips as I began to unbutton his shirt, sliding my hand in. I pulled away and palmed him through his pants, earning a soft groan from his lips. He winced and moaned a little suddenly, squeezing his eyes shut.

"John," he uttered. "Shit, w-we can't do this right this moment."

"Why not?" I whispered softly. He turned his head bashfully, squeezing his eyes shut. 

"I have work to do. The other slaves are downstairs. And I—" Alexander sucked in a breath, taking my hand and moving it away from his pants, "please, John. We'd better not.”

"Fine," I whispered, sitting up on the sofa. He sat up as well and began to button his shirt, leaning in to kiss me. I just sat still, face stony. He seemed withdrawn as he got up. "I should go eat lunch," I said softly. "Would you like me to bring yours up?"

"No, that's fine, send Sally," he hummed, tying his tie and sitting back down at his desk. "She should be up soon anyway."

"Right," I nodded slowly.

Theodosia and Sally seemed withdrawn from me as well. It felt like they were jealous of me or just upset that I hadn't spoken to them as often. Sally seemed concerned but also happy for me. She and Alexander would still have 'therapy sessions' which were the few times I would do my chores.

"We barely see you anymore," Theodosia pouted, "are you choosing Mr. Hamilton over us?"

"I'm not choosing anybody over anything," I insisted, "I swear. I'm just... taking what life has given me."

I didn't want to tell anybody that I genuinely liked Alexander. He had a genuine personality, too, underneath his brutish, lonely anger. He liked to write poetry, read, and... well, that's all I knew about his hobbies. That, and work. But his personality was cold yet underneath it I could tell he liked me back.

Or maybe I really was living a delusion. Letting his lips bait me into lies to get me in his bed, as metaphorically as literally. Perhaps I was in denial that he could never love me. I still called him, 'sir' and 'Mr. Hamilton', for the love of God. He hadn't told me not to and I was apprehensive to use his first name.

Maybe Jefferson was right. When I overheard their conversation in the foyer...

Is it possible to like somebody who you're afraid of? Not that his brutish nature made me like him, it's just that I liked the sweetness under the brute. He must love me, right? The way he whispers to me and holds me and kisses me? But not just that; the way he protects me from those who want to hurt me.

No, wait... I don’t need anybody to protect me. I’ve always protected myself. 

Maybe that’s why it felt so nice to have somebody who cares.

• • •

"John, are you crying?" he whispered one night, taking his arms off my waist and pulling me over.

"I want you to love me," I admitted shamefully, "I want to feel desired, genuinely. I don't want it to be fake. I just... I need it."

"John," he sighed and brushed the hair out of my eyes, "just keep lying to yourself. You'll feel better."

"I can’t do it anymore.”

“Yes, you can. I know you can.”

“I can’t..." I muttered and put my hands over my face. He grabbed my wrists and slowly pulled them away.

"Don't hide your handsome face."

"Stop lying to me, please," I whispered helplessly.

"You don't know if I'm lying," he mumbled, "because you still haven't answered my question."

"You told me—"

"Situationally, it's unrealistic for either of us to have feelings for one another. But tell me your answer."

"My answer is that I want you to love me. I want you to be goddamn jealous whenever you think of me sleeping with another person, I want you to want me so bad that when we’re alone, you practically can’t stand not touching me. I fucking want to be desired for something other than my damn ‘handsome face’ or ‘hot body’. Why is that not clear to you...?"

"That is your problem, John," he told me, "I will tell you that I love you, whether you choose to believe it or not is up to you. When the world crashes because you find the truth, don't blame it on me.”

"But, why? Why must you lie?"

"I desire you," he told me. "And if I say I don't love you, it'll only hurt you."

"Hamilton."

"You want my affection on the condition that I give you the answer you want to hear. You know by now that my nature is not loving in any manner, so why would you assume I make an exception for you? It's clear that I am protecting you by lying."

"So when you say you love me, you are lying?"

"I am simply telling you the answer you want to hear. Your mistake is asking the question. I... I can’t love anybody."

"But, do you love me? You desire me— am I the one you can make an exception for?" 

Alexander just pulled me closer to him. He has to love me.


	23. Denial

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The one in which it all goes to shit.

"Mr. Hamilton," I whispered one night.

"Yes, John?"

"What do you truly know about me?" I asked.

Alexander's hold on me seemed to tighten a bit protectively as he pulled my body to his, just a bit closer. "You're smart and passionate. Kind, but it makes you naïve and stupid. Too generous and too determined, yet submissive. You let anybody walk on you. I know you came from a wealthy father in South Carolina who is a slave owner like myself. I know that you were arrested for slave sympathizing and trying to assist a runaway."

"Submissive," I repeated inaudibly to myself. If I'm submissive, it's because he makes me this way. "I'm not submissive or weak. I'm not naïve."

"If you're not naïve, then why are you in my bed, John?"

I paused. "You're an ass, you know that? You made me weak."

"I also know that you're too abrasive for your own good... reminds me a lot of myself, in fact."

“You know more about me than I know about you," I tell him. "I don't even know how old you are."

"Twenty," he tells me. "What do you know about me?"

“I’m older than you.”

“What do you know about me?” he repeated.

"You own slaves. You're wealthy and you dislike people. You aren't abusive and you aren't as cold as you make yourself out to be."

"You wouldn't know that," he said.

“Actually, I think I have a good idea of your true nature. Since, I mean, you’re the only person I’m around all day every day for the past several months. You’re not as cold as you want to be.”

“I am cold.”

"If you're so cold then what the hell am I doing here?" I hissed, "Why the hell would you ever keep me safe if you don't care about me?!" I pushed away from him.

"John—"

"No! Don't tell me I'm the one in denial when you're clearly denying the truth! Admit it, you do love me!"

"That's what you want to believe!" he yelled. I flinched and stared at him in the dark of the bedroom. He said, "You tell yourself lies. Now go to bed, John."

"No."

"John, go to bed."

"No!" I repeated, "I will not go to bed! I want a distinct statement! I need you to stop playing games and tell me if you love me authentically or not! Answer my inquiry when I ask if I'm desirable!"

"John!" he shouted as I got out of bed.

"You want me to see the truth?! The truth is that things don't add up when you tell me that you don't love me yet you protect me and you show me affection!" I screamed. 

"John, get in bed," he growled, standing up after me. I stood my ground in the dark bedroom, the moon and stars illuminating the room. I could see his features clearly in the moonlight.

"Tell me why you're denying it."

"It's not true. I— I can't love you."

"Stop denying it! Why the hell can’t you?! I love you, and you give me nothing in return! You expect everything when you give me nothing! Do you know how much it hurts to say 'I love you' over and over and over again to what feels like an empty vessel?! It fucking hurts so much!" I screamed.

"Shut your mouth and stop believing stupid lies that I told you! Stop trying to make the fantasy world in your head work or I swear I will—"

"Will what, Alexander?" I growled. "What are you going to do to me? Hit me? Because you don't seem too fond of that when the only people who are watching are you and me."

Alexander gritted his teeth.

"I could beat your face in, in an instant," I hissed, drawing closer to him. "But I don't— you know why, Hamilton?! Because I'm a fucking slave! I have to worry about being beaten to death without justice if I even speak my mind!" I yelled. He growled and grabbed my wrist. "No," I pushed him away harshly, "if it's a lie, I don't want to believe it anymore.”

"Get back in bed, John. Where are you going?" he asked as I turned towards the door. "John, where the hell are you going?! John!"

"I'm leaving," I hissed, "I'm not going to stay in denial."

"You leave this bedroom and I'm not protecting you. You can come crawling back to me when you can't take it anymore without my protection, but I'm not going to help you."

"So be it."

"If you come back to bed I will forget this happened, John. Please, I won't hurt you for yelling at me. I will hold you and you will continue to believe the lies b-because you want to!"

"No, I don't!"

"John!" he yelled desperately, fists clenching and groping at his own shirt, "You will n-no longer be favored! No more cutting you slack for not doing your job, no more skipping chores, no more unkept threats! You don't do your job I will treat you as a regular slave and— and I will hurt you. You talk back I will whip you. If I want sex, then... you will give it to me."

For a moment, I winced, but went on anyhow. "Very well," I said. 

“John—!”

I turned around, grabbing him by the color of his shirt. “You know what? I can practically taste the desperation in your voice,” I drew even closer, my lips mere centimeters away, “and I’m not giving in.”

“John,” he grabbed my arm, “John, you’re a fucking slave, you can’t talk to me that way.”

“I am a man and your goddamned lover. I will talk to you however I please. If you want to limit me, then I don’t believe I can do this any longer.”

“John.” His grip became tighter and he grabbed my chin.

“Let go of me,” I commanded. When he didn’t let up, only trying to hold me closer in a rough manner, I instinctively raised my hand, slapping him in the face. Alexander let go and shoved me away, growling in pain.

I turned away quickly, grabbing my shoes and walking out the door. He screamed my name a couple of times and demanded I return to him but I didn't. He followed me as I made my way through the hall and down the staircase.

“John!” he screamed, standing at the top. I stood at the bottom and watched him go down several steps. “John, come back! P-please!”

“Go fuck yourself!” 

“John!” He ran after me, nearly tripping as he grabbed my hand. We stood in the foyer in the dark. “This isn’t fair! You can’t leave just because I haven’t said that I love you!”

“And you can’t fucking threaten to whip and rape me when I leave! Don’t you see a damn double standard? Can’t you see how this affects me?! I’m sick of catering to you!”

He stayed silent, letting go of my hand.

“You don’t get the right to have me as your lover if you won’t tell me the truth. But I know you well enough to know that you don’t want me to be just your slave. Say it, and I’ll come back.”

“Don’t fucking leave. I’m begging you, John. I-I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Then stop lying to me.” 

We stayed silent. I turned and left promptly after he didn’t speak.

This was an all or nothing thing now and could permanently ruin any chance of being with him.

But I had to do this. If I wanted a sane mind, I had to risk all I had left in this cruel world.


	24. Master & Slave

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shit

I was going to prove that he loves me. Not to anybody but him. He's going to realize how much he misses me. When he tries to hurt me whatsoever, he'll have to force himself to do it. My one prayer to heaven was that he wouldn't let his pride get in way of his love.

The male slaves didn't hear me coming into the housing in the middle of the night, but I was wearing an oversized shirt of Alexander's and a pair of his pants. My pillow and sleeping bag had been stolen, so I laid down on the firm wood, using my arm as a pillow. Falling asleep was not an easy task.

"Hey, whore," I woke up to somebody grabbing my hair, making me look up at him. I groaned and forgot for a moment where I was, not remembering that I had stormed out last night. My back was killing me and I was freezing without a blanket, especially since it was late Autumn and the snow would be coming soon. The fireplace in the corner wasn't burning anything.

"What?" I spat at the other slave. He scowled.

"Did master kick you out, bitch? You wearing his shirt? Pampers you, you know, you’re wearing his clothes and everything. Look at the shit we wear. Old coats and pants, hand-me-down clothes.”

"Fuck off."

"You little whore. Stop being pissy because the master got sick of his little sex toy," he growled. I pushed myself off of the bunk and glanced up at the clock. It was almost ten in the morning; I was supposed to be cleaning four hours ago. I had gotten too comfortable with sleeping in and relying on Mr. Hamilton to wake me up.

I missed that he wasn't there to hold me this morning. Nonetheless, I picked myself up and jumped off of the bunk. My neck was stiff. I realized that I left my clothes in Alexander's bedroom.

"Shit," I muttered.

"Oh, not used to the life of slaves anymore, bitch?" The slave asked.

"Leave me the fuck alone," I snapped, pulling on my shoes.

"Hey, you do know that you're the reason Lee was resold, huh?" He shoved me. I was a bit relieved— at least Alexander didn't kill the guy. I understand life as a slave is difficult... even if that bitch deserved to get beaten to a pulp.

"Yeah, and? That asshole cut my leg open," I spat, angrily turning and leaving the housing. It was freezing outside and not even the sun on my hair and face could warm me up as I walked to the house. After all, I was only wearing a shirt and pants. There were stares from the other slaves.

"John?" Sally whispered as I came into the house. Heaven, it was so much warmer. I sighed.

"What?" I asked.

"W-what were you doing outside? Lord, you look awful! You're half-nude!"

"Never mind," I said. "Is Hamilton in his office?"

"I don't know," she told me. "John, what happened?"

"It's nothing," I told her again before going upstairs. I turned to the bedroom and found it empty, much to my relief. I quickly changed into one of my maid's dresses and I pull my hair back with a ribbon. I truly do look awful, with bags under my eyes and dirt on my hands from the barren bunk I slept on.

"You're four hours late," I hear a voice snap. I close my eyes and sigh, turning around. Time to give my best.

"Sorry," I said. I knew he wasn't going to punish me.

"Are you done being mad at me yet, John?"

I glared.

"Did you find it comfortable sleeping out there?" he asked.

"Not at all."

"Do you want to come back?"

"No," I lied.

"You want to play this game?" He narrowed his eyes at me. I studied the bruise beginning to form, stretching from the inner corner of his left eye and down his nose. I wondered if it was broken.

"What game?" I hissed.

"Have it your way," Alexander gritted his teeth. I had to stifle the laugh I wanted to let out at how clearly hurt he was. I looked him in the eyes as his hand met my face with a slap. I let out a suppressed cry of pain and held my hand against where he hit me. "Get to work, slave. Don't be late again."

I bit the inside of my cheek and began to move past him. He grabbed my wrist, pulling my hand from my face.

"Answer your master when he speaks," he growled. It didn't sound genuine and I stopped myself from smirking. The slap wasn't that hard, either. I knew he would crack quickly.

"Yes, Sir. I won't be late again," I told him, making my voice as pained as possible. The more he felt sorry, the better.

"Go," he shoved me. I had expected him to say, 'good boy' like usual, but he didn't. 'Good boy' was more a pet name, a compliment, than a genuine response to my 'good behavior'. And thank god for that, the whole "good boy" thing got on my nerves. I'm not a fucking dog.

I walked away, not daring to look back at Alexander. I walked downstairs to grab the cleaning supplies from the closet.

Unfortunately, to my dismay, Theodosia and Sally began to bombard me with concerns.

"Let me, I'm fine," I say.

"But your face is red! And the bruise was just starting to go away, too," Theodosia complained.

"It's fine," I reassure her, "it's just... sort of a game."

"Game? What the hell are you talking about, John? Are you feeling alright?" She moved her hand to my forehead and I shoved it away.

"I told you it's fine. I have to work," I say, taking the bucket of supplies upstairs. Sally shot me an apologetic look as walk upstairs.

I began cleaning. When I wax the floors, I don't do it the way Alexander showed me. It bothered him that I was getting blisters, so I'll just do that again. I flaunted myself as much as possible and made myself as helpless as possible whenever he saw me. That way, he'd feel guilty. He was going to crack.

It was a game. It's a game of chicken; whoever caved in first was the loser. I was not going to lose.


	25. Guests

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John is reckless

Things didn't get easier on either of us. I wasn't allowed to wear his clothes anymore, but I kept the shirt I wore the first night I left. I used it as a pillow, seeing as whoever had my pillow wasn't going to give it back. I slept in my dresses.

Alexander knew this was a game and he, like I, was not prepared to lose. I could tell he was convinced I was weaker than he. He could slap me, yell at me, demand the impossible, I wasn't going to crack. Anytime he hurt me he would have a look in his eyes that showed sorrow and regret.

"You're just a useless, lazy whore," he told me. So far, it was the most hurtful thing he had said to me. I knew he was trying to get me to submit again. I let a couple of tears slip out of my eyes from where I cowered on the floor. He had hit me again, but I really just wanted to laugh. It was weak and he was clearly pained by it.

"Why don't you just admit it, Mr. Hamilton?" I groaned, my hands shaking. There were still tears. "You love me."

He stayed silent for a moment as I got on my knees, groping for his tie and trying to pull him down with me. Alexander's eyes darted to the door, then back at me, as he knelt down a bit. Trembling, I pressed my lips to his gently. He leaned into it for a second or two, but he then pulled away quickly and glared.

"Shut the fuck up. Go clean before I whip you," he hissed. I stopped myself from smiling.

"You wouldn't."

"I will keep my word," he answered. "Go clean. I have guests coming."

Perfect. A perfect time to get in trouble with him.

Theodosia and Sally were right; I could use this to my advantage to get what I want. He wouldn't hurt me and if he did, he would feel bad. His favoritism to me will help me get him to admit that he loves me. No more games. Then I can go back to being in his arms and, well, whatever happens then will be for the future to decide.

"Yes, Sir," I say quietly. When I left the room I covered my mouth to stop the laughter. He had to break soon.

After cleaning for hours, I hear commotion downstairs.

"Alex, mon cher!" A French voice yells. “My, what happened to your nose? Did you get into a fist fight with your colleagues?”

“Sure,” he muttered.

I put the cleaning supplies into my bucket and brought it downstairs to the closet. "Who may this be, mon Cher Alexander?"

I kept my head down.

"Just my maid," Alexander growled a bit. "Lafayette, Mulligan, it's been a long time!"

"Too long," another man says. What was the accent— very vague, but British? No, no, Scottish? It was hard to tell because it wasn't strong at all, as the French man's. It sounded more American than anything. Perhaps Irish...

"Slave," Alexander said. I flinched and looked up.

"What do you want?" I asked. I felt his eyes burn into me.

"What the hell did you just say to me?"

"I asked what the hell you want," I spat. The French man grabbed Alexander's arm as he began to lurch at me.

"Lafayette, get the fuck off of me!" he yelled. "I'm going to teach him some respect!"

"Mon ami, please, do not—"

Alexander broke from his grip and grabbed me by the hair. He shoved me into the kitchen and pushed me onto the counter. Theodosia and Sally quickly moved away, not saying anything but clearly horrified. Pots clattered to the floor, causing a loud ruckus to ring throughout the kitchen.

"What do you want, Sir?" I teased quietly. It was only loud enough for Alexander to hear. He slapped me across the face.

"You fucking bitch!" he hissed. "Show me some goddamn respect or I swear I'll—"

"Go ahead," I spat. "Whip me. You wouldn't be able to."

His hand slapped my face again. I yelled out painfully, it hurt more than I expected. Sally let out a small cry and I saw her bury herself in Theodosia's embrace. I felt blood on my lip.

"This is what you get when you want to be treated equally," he whispered furiously. "I could have protected you."

"You still want to protect me," I mumbled, my eyes not leaving his. His eyes were glossy and angry and sad.

"You lost that chance, John." He shoved me, slammed my back against the counter. At that, I let out a real cry of pain. It was sharp, very real. Alexander backed up, looking at me and barring his teeth. He ran his fingers through his hair and tried to appear strong. He was breaking apart, I could see it.

“What, y-you feel bad for hitting my back?” I strained, bracing myself. “You felt bad when you whipped me; you feel bad again, don’t you?”

“Shut the fuck up!”

"You're going to cave," I told him from the floor of the kitchen. I heard Sally crying.

He knelt down and grabbed my hair, tilting my head up.

"Unlikely," he told me, "and I told you: I'm not letting you back."

"Unlikely," I countered. "Hurt me all you want, but I know you still love me. I still love you."

"How the fuck do you have the guts to say that?"

"Trust me," I mumbled, "it gets more and more difficult to love your stupid fucking face when you yell at me and hit me. But I still do, I—"

"Shut up!" he cut me off. 

"Why? Are you afraid?" I leaned up towards him and bit my lip. He shoved me away.

"You better be fucking respectful when you come back out of this kitchen. If you embarrass me, I will embarrass you."

"Very well," I say.

"No. Answer me properly."

"Sure, as if I'm going to respect you after you hit me and shoved me to the floor," I muttered. I kept my gaze for another moment, reaching my shaking hand up to touch the back of his neck. I felt his hair, thick and dark, and held on to him. I whispered, "What are you waiting for, Mr. Hamilton? You going to whip me, or what?"

"You fucking—" He gritted his teeth and grabbed my hair tighter, bringing my face closer to his. "I swear to God, you better watch your mouth."

"Fucking— shit. Yes, Sir," I muttered, rolling my eyes a little. He stood up, pulling me with him by my hair as I yelped, my eyes closing tightly in surprise. I didn't wipe my lip, knowing well that it was bleeding. He dragged me out of the kitchen. I watched the door swing behind me. The French man and the (decidedly) Irish man stood there, looking between each other and at Alexander, horrified.

"He's bleeding," the French man pointed out. 

"No shit," I mumbled. 

"Oh, mon Dieu! What the hell, Alex?"

"He knows better than to talk back to me," Alexander answered. Frenchie glared at him. "Slave, this is Hercules Mulligan and Gilbert du Montier, Marquis de la Lafayette. Take their bags upstairs to the two guest rooms."

I almost talked back but kept my mouth shut.

"Do you understand?"

"Yes, Sir," I growled at him, going to pick up the bags. He glared as I went up the stairs. I set them down in the rooms and quickly inspected the rooms to be sure that they were tidy.

I tried to decide what to do now. I probably was rather gross. It was only a week into this ordeal and things weren't getting easier at all. I have only showered once, since the shower for the slaves is with cold, well water and it's a little too public in a room of men that want to beat me up. Alexander ignored me most of the time. I still remembered the night I left and how he could take anything he wants from me, even sex. Knowing him, he hasn't used that card on me yet. If he does use that card, I'm not making it easy on him at all. He wouldn't go through with it.

The next two days weren't easy. I tried to push Alexander to the edge, hoping he'd eventually just jump. By jump, I mean to admit that he was wrong.

"Slave," I heard the French man behind me as I cleaned the library.

"Monsieur Lafayette?" I turned to him.

"Don't— no. Please, call me just Lafayette. Sir, your eye is black and blue," he winced.

"Yes, and?"

"What did Alexander do?" he asked, moving closer to me. I stepped back and glared at him.

"He's just being stubborn," I told him.

"Whatever do you mean?" he asked. I laughed a little bit and looked at my feet. "What is your name? You look familiar."

"John," I said, “Laurens.”

"John Laurens. I barely recognized you with the black eye and the cut on your lip... not to mention that outfit. You’re quite skinny, has Alex fed you? I recognize you from newspapers, by the way. And John... I recommend you respect Alexander. He's short-fused."

"Oh, I know. But, so am I.”

“So you will be careful, yes?”

“No," I said, leaving the room.

• • •

That night, before it was time to go to the slave’s quarters for sleep, I was to finish my cleaning of the library. It was all the way on the opposite end of the hall from where the two guest rooms resided. I picked up a book, briefly beginning to skim through it. I just needed something to help me escape this wretched world, even if only for a short while.

But I was startled from my thoughts when the library doors opened, revealing Alexander. I slowly put the book back, keeping my eyes on the floor.

“What is it that you want, now?” I muttered. The double doors closed behind him and he sighed:

“You know what you’re doing.”

“As do you,” I growled. “You know you are dehumanizing and emasculating me. You know you are. Not even just now, but ever since I got here, it’s all you have done. Jefferson was right.”

“What? What about?”

“You know what.” 

“Fucking tell me.”

“Figure— it— out—” I annunciated slowly. His jaw clenched as he came closer.

“I am so goddamn sick of this act. Give it up already,” Alexander growled, grabbing at my collar.

“Treat me like a human being,” I countered harshly as I pushed past him, leaving the library to go outside to the slave's quarters.

• • •

The next day, after cleaning, I go downstairs where Alexander is talking to Mulligan. It was after dinner, nearly eleven PM.

"Bonsoir, John," Lafayette says to me. He's kind— most of Alexander's friends were kind. Peggy Schuyler, Aaron Burr, now him and Hercules Mulligan.

"Bonsoir," I say back.

"Don't interact with him, Gilbert," Alexander snapped. Lafayette rolled his eyes.

"Lafayette, would you like anything to drink?" I said politely.

"No, I will be fine," he said. He felt pity towards me.

Well, time to work my magic.

"Lafayette, have you noticed anything out of the ordinary about me?" I said in an overly sweet tone. I felt Alexander's stare.

"No, why?"

"I thought you'd—" I paused for a moment, my hands behind my back, "no, wait, my dress covers it. Would you like to see?"

"John?" Lafayette looked at me strangely. I unzipped my dress, knowing this would set Alexander off. I turn around and show him my bare back— the scars that Alexander was always so sympathetic and tense about. "Qu'est-ce que c'est? What happened?!"

"Just marks," I shrugged and zipped it back up, shooting a glance at Alexander, who was seething, "—from when Mr. Hamilton and Mr. Jefferson whipped me for spilling wine."

Lafayette looked angry. He gave Alexander the death-glare.

Oh, I was in for it, all right.


	26. Embarrassment

Alexander glared at me with the kind of hate that I've never seen in his eyes before. 

“Alexander, perhaps we all should turn in for the night,” Lafayette said suddenly, “I recommend you send John back to the quarters, we all are tired and should be getting to bed.”

"Slave," Alexander called me over, ignoring Lafayette.

"Mr. Hamilton," I said. I glanced at Lafayette, whose knuckles turned white as he gripped onto the arm of the sofa.

"Come, sit in my lap.”

"You cannot be—"

"Now," he demanded.

“No,” I shook my head. “No, you can’t make me.”

“Right— now—“ he growled.

Of course. He was only going to do this to me to make a point in front of people. 'Embarrass me,' he said, 'and I'll embarrass you.'

"Alexander," Mulligan glared.

"Slave, in my lap," he repeated.

I groan and walk to him. He pulled me into his lap and I sat facing him. Lafayette gave Mulligan a questioning look. Alexander's hands held onto my hips roughly, keeping me still.

I suddenly realized that this would be a moment that could work to my advantage. He's going to miss being in my arms, one way or another.

I rest my head on his shoulder, like the days last week. It was going to bother the hell out of him. And for me, getting to hold onto him, even if just for show, was relieving. I would be lying if I said I didn't miss him. This act I was playing wasn't to spite him, rather get him to admit to me, and to himself, that he loves me. My hold on him remained dominating and strong.

"Qu'est-ce que tu fais, Alex?" Lafayette asked a bit angrily.

"Il me respectera," Alexander replied, a bit strained from my lips on his neck. "Il est à moi. I can make him do what I please."

I chuckled softly and hugged him even tighter, burying my nose in his neck.

"I'm not the one in denial," I mumbled in his ear. "Admit it."

"Jesus Christ," Mulligan mumbled from the other sofa, which was diagonal from the one Alexander and I sat on. Alexander looked uncomfortable. I melted into his body. Lafayette stood up and left, Mulligan quickly following. They went to the kitchen. I pulled away to look him in the eyes.

“You’re ill,” I told him. “I just wanted you to know that.”

“Shut up,” Alexander muttered. He reached out to touch my face, and I evaded the gesture by moving my head, pressing my forehead to his neck. “I wanted you to just come back. Why did you leave?”

“Don’t. Not without a goddamn apology,” I mumbled. He grabbed my chin, trying to pull my face up. I barred my teeth, pushing him away and grabbing him by the hair when he tried to push me down onto the sofa. “Fuck you!”

“Stop— shit, that hurts!” Alexander yelped as I tightened my grip on his ponytail. I let go and sat up, hands on his shoulders and eyes half-lidded. I gained control and pushed him down on his back, hands tightening around his wrists.

"Do you miss me yet, shithead?" I muttered, looking him in the eyes. He squirmed and tried to push me off of him.

"John—! L-Lafayette and Mulligan are in the next room," he whimpered. I watched his eyes close as he continued to fight my hold. "John, get off of me. Y-you have no legal rights to do this to me."

"If you would just fucking apologize, this all would be over. It's so, so Goddamned simple."

"Get off of me!" He was angry again.

He managed to shove me away again, sitting up. I stayed in his lap and gritted my teeth.

"Fuck you. I can still make you do what I want," Alexander told me.

"But you wouldn't," I growled. "No matter how much you want to."

"Shut the hell up. Go upstairs." I got off of his lap and turned around to hide the smirk on my face. He's caving. "Go to my bedroom."

My face flushed. I didn't turn around.

"Pardon?"

"Didn't think I was going to hold my word, hm? Go upstairs and wait for me in my bedroom."

I growled. “No.” “No?” He cocked an eyebrow. “That’s what I said— no. You can’t— you won’t. You would never. If you— I will never, ever love you,” I spat, grinding my teeth. “If you’re so sure I won’t, then why don’t you go upstairs to prove me wrong?” he growled. “No.” “What, what do you want me to do, John?” Alexander stood, grabbing my arm. “What is it you’re so adamant in getting me to do?! Should I hit you?” “No,” I mumbled, taking a step back. “Beat you? Whip you?” I felt my body tense as I looked away. “No,” I said a bit louder, shoving him away. “No, no you wouldn’t.” “But I already did,” he reached around and touched my back, making me wince out of pure shock, nostalgia, and anxiety. I pushed him away again, making sure to grab his arm and jerk it away. “Go upstairs. Now.” He's trying to get me to crack. I did as he said and went upstairs. I hid behind the corner and listened in to the conversations downstairs as the other two men came back into the living room with glasses of wine and a platter of cheese.

"Alexander, what the hell?" Lafayette complained. "You know this is wrong."

"It's not wrong."

"How the hell is it not wrong?" Mulligan shouted. "What have you been doing to that man?!"

"He is a slave.” Alexander stood up defensively. “And I gave him everything! He's being disrespectful to me, so if you don't want me to discipline my own slaves, get out of my house!"

"What happened to you, Alex? What happened to your morals, your ethics?! They all changed when you met Thomas Jefferson!"

"Thomas has nothing to do with this! Don't bring him into this, I'm done with him!"

"Stop trying to cover the past!" Lafayette yelled.

"I am doing no such thing," he shot back, "Thomas and I are done. I barely see him anymore."

"Oh, paradis," Lafayette mumbled, "I should have never gone to France, Mulligan."

"Alex," Mulligan glared, "you changed. Jefferson messed your head up."

"He did no such thing! I am my own man!"

"What has Jefferson been telling you?"

"Nothing!"

"He's influenced you."

"No, he has not." Alexander stood up from the sofa, leaving behind Mulligan and Lafayette, who looked angry, disappointed, and helpless. As soon as I saw that he was about to come upstairs I ran to the bedroom. I pretended as if I had been in there the whole time by sitting on the bed. Oh, the bed. The soft bed I wished I had again. I grabbed the sheets and buried my face in a pillow, reaching out to touch the one of the left side. Alexander’s pillow.

Alexander came into the bedroom, closing and locking the door behind him. I jerked back. He wasn't going to actually go through with this. I could get him to crack right now.

A part of me hoped that he wasn't going to be like Jefferson, as Mulligan has insinuated. Though I knew Alexander better than that; this is the man who has taken obscure measures to ensure my wellbeing. The man who gives therapy to his slave. The man who clothes, who feeds, who houses his slaves as he should. But still, the man who even owns slaves in the first place...

Alexander's eyes were almost a mahogany color, compared to the chocolate they usually were. He has bags under his eyes and a scowl on his lips. His face read deprivation, depression, and determination. He has to crack. I have to get him to crack. He has to love me, or I have nothing.


	27. Whore’s Interlude

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “It gets worse,” -Shane Dawson

My hopes and ideals seemed too good to be true. Alexander walked towards the bed.

"Lay down," he hissed. I didn't move. "I told you to lay down."

"No, you and I both know that you aren't going to go through with this," I told him.

"Just watch me," he pushed me down onto the bed and pinned my hands at my sides. I squeaked a bit, surprised.

"You won't do it because I don't want you to," I said. I tried to sound strong.

"I won't? Since when do I take orders from a slave?"

"You love me."

"What did I tell you, John?"

"What?"

"What did I tell you?" he repeated. I looked up at him, confused. He sighed. "I told you that you don't want to hear the truth because whether or not I want you for your body and whether or not you consent, I'm still going to get you. It would have been easier if you had continued to lie to yourself. This is your fault."

"Like hell it is!" I spat, writhing a bit.

"You wouldn't be in this situation if you had listened to me! If you had just come back to my bedroom that night, none of this would be happening! I warned you and you made that decision!" he yelled.

"You're not going to get me! I know you, Alexander Hamilton, and you won't touch me unless I consent to it! You promised!" I screamed, kicking around. He held my arms tightly.

"I promised before you dared to test me by leaving!"

"Stop being angry at me!" I shouted, "I can't help that you're lying to yourself!"

"You're the one crazy enough to think I could ever love a slave," he hissed. 

I couldn’t stand it. I twisted my arm free and slapped him across the face, then shoved him off of me and ran for the door. He quickly grabbed me, holding me by my waist and dragging me back to the bed as I screamed. “No!” I screamed, pushing away from him best I could. He continued to pull me back and I just screamed louder. “Help! Help me!” His hand clasped over my mouth. I twisted my head from side to side. He didn’t let go, his nails digging into my cheek. I kicked and writhed in his arms as he pushed me to the bed, sitting on top of my stomach so I couldn’t move. 

“Get off of me,” I commanded, clenching my fist. Alexander didn't move. “Get the hell off of me!” I swung at him, landing a good hit on the side of his face, though the trajectory was ill and caused a weak punch. I pushed up on him but he grabbed hold of my hair, making me shout out in shock and pain.

“You have nowhere to go,” Alexander hissed. “You can try to get out of this room, out of this house but then what? Where do you plan on going, John? Because I can hunt you down, have every policeman in the state— no, on the east coast— searching for you. And when they bring you back,” his hand moved over my stomach and to my neck, tightening lightly by my jaw, “consequences will be severe. And I will get you anyway. There’s no escape from this, John,” Alexander stood up, getting off of me. I sat up on the bed and he shoved me back down. "Stay here. You're sleeping with me tonight. I will get your body, because I own you, no matter whatever way you take it."

"Alex, please! I—I know this isn't you, please!—"

"Shut the hell up!" he yelled. I closed my mouth. For a second, something flashed in his eyes. He stared at me in tense silence for a long time and I saw him tear up before jerking his head in the other direction and wiping them. Alexander said, "All I fucking wanted was to protect you." "Then what the fuck are you doing?" I growled under my breath. "You're a goddamned liar. Fuck you! See if I can ever fucking love you after this, you asshole!" "Go fuck yourself, John." Alexander left the bedroom. I jumped up after him, and I grabbed the door handle after he left to see it was locked. I pulled and pulled and banged my arm on the door, feelings sobs choke from my throat as I slid down to the floor. I screamed until my throat hurt. He cannot go through with this.

I ran to the window, opening it quickly and looking out into the night. A rush of stinging snowflakes hit my hot cheeks, melting with my tears. I looked down from the second story window, feeling nausea rush over me. I could jump into the fresh snow, hope to God it’s deep enough... then, where? Could I just run aimlessly in the snow, hoping I can get far enough? Of course not, not when Alexander made it very clear that he would track me down.

I paced the bedroom anxiously.

I could break the lock and beg for mercy, pleading with Lafayette and Mulligan to help me. But what then? They have no legal power over Alexander's actions, and I never wanted to make Alexander this angry at me, I just wanted him to admit he was wrong. 

I could lock myself in the bathroom. Wait it out— but still, I'm trapped. No matter what way you slice it, this is the end of the tracks. It always had been; I never had a choice. By law, he owns me, and I can't leave this house, seek protection, or fight him off. I could easily overpower him, but even if I were to do so, I'd have nowhere else to turn.

Oh, God.

My nightmares were coming true.


	28. Ropes

I began to hyperventilate.

The thought of him going this far was horrifying. I never meant for it to happen like this. It wasn't a game anymore. It felt real and he was going to take my body with force. I didn't want to believe it— I couldn't possibly believe that a man such as Alexander could ever take it that far. But, it must have simply been my naivetè. My unfounded partiality towards him led me to believe he actually cared. Worse, I couldn't help but have a belief, a hope, that he still cared for me.

I just heaved and held onto the bedsheets. I could fall asleep. I haven't slept well all week. My head ached, my eyes hurt, my emotions weren't stable, I was a mess. And now he's going to come back in here and force himself on me. He doesn't really love me. No matter how hard I tried to get him to tell me he loves me, it just wasn't true. I just wanted to feel loved. By anybody, even my master. If he didn't own me, I'd still want him. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

I stood up and hobbled to the bathroom, feeling a nauseous sickness pass over me as I cried. I couldn’t stop. Everything was falling apart before my eyes and it was my fault. It’s always my fault.

I locked the bathroom door behind me, sliding down to the floor. He couldn’t get me in here. Maybe he’d break down the door, drag me out by my feet, beat me until I’m black and blue. He’d hit me and yell at me and do anything he wants to me. 

"There’s something wrong with him," I told myself. "This isn’t Alexander."

He never hurt me like this. He was never this angry. He never seemed like the sort of man to be this angry. But now, I’ve threatened to leave him, and he can’t stand it. So he yelled, he threatened me back. He just doesn’t want me to leave.

My cries got louder and I stood, staring myself in the mirror. I ripped off the dress angrily, hating to see myself in it. I pulled off the stockings and hair bow and held them in my arms. I stood before the mirror in only my underwear at my beaten face, my malnourished cheeks and body, my tears that continued to roll down and damn my dignity.

I screamed out a sob in frustration, throwing the dress against the wall and banging my fist on the bathroom door. I was fully aware that I locked myself in here, of course, to stay away from Alexander. I’m too weak to fend him off. I wanted to be strong and by doing that I have damned myself. My situation was utterly hopeless unless Alexander chose not to hurt me. But I drove him to this point. It’s my fault. Everything is my fault. I continued to throw my fists around, eventually grabbing my hair and sliding back down to the floor. I sobbed into my knees, pulling at my curls.

• • •

I had fallen asleep. I woke up again still wearing only bunchy underwear with my hands bound by ropes. "Dammit, it's cold," I hissed under my breath, not yet fully awake. I was laying on the bed although on top of the covers. My head was killing me. The room was dim, the only light being from the lamp. The covers were messed up. I tried to sit up, but the bondage was disabling.

I felt hot tears welling in my eyes. He was going to do it or he had already done it while I was asleep.

Alexander was awake. He was sitting on the end of the bed, face in his hands.

The room was silent, the only sounds being what sounded like crying from Alexander. I didn't speak. I listened to the soft crying. I had never heard him cry before.

"Are you crying?" I mumbled. My voice was hoarse. It was pitch black outside and cloudy. He sounded startled that I had caught him crying.

"No," he answered.

"I heard you," I insisted.

"No, you didn't. Go to sleep."

"Who are you trying to prove something to? And what? It's just me... just me. I don't understand why the fuck you have to prove yourself to me.”

"Shut up and go to sleep," he demanded. I shifted to sit up in bed. My hands were tied to the bedpost, not just together.

“How— how’d you get me?” 

“I— I thought, at first, that you had somehow got away. Escaped into the house somewhere or m-maybe gotten out through the window, scaled down, run away. I p-panicked and then I saw the bathroom door closed, and the door was locked so I obtained the k-key from my office. You were on the floor, half naked and sleeping, you w-were a mess. So, I— I picked you up and dragged you to the bed, and I...” he trailed off, not continuing.

"Why the hell are my hands bound?" I asked angrily. Did I want to know the answer? Was he crying because he felt bad for whatever he did to me whilst I was incapacitated and unable to fight against him?

"To..." he trailed off and I heard another small grunt, nearly a cry.

Alexander made his way to me, crawling across the bed. He sat next to me. I couldn't really sit up due to my hands being above my head.

"Why are my hands tied?"

"I don't think you want to know the answer to that."

"Yes, I do," I insisted. "Don't tell me you... w-while I was incapacitated, y-you didn't, did you? "

"If you must know, John, it was to keep you from moving and fighting against me." He sounded upset. My breath caught in my throat. I was going to cry.

"W-what did you do to me while I was asleep?!"

He didn't respond. I felt sick.

"Hamilton!"

"I did n-nothing," he mumbled. "I couldn't. You were... r-right, John, oh, my God, you were right. I just want you... I just don't want you to leave. Please, don't leave."

Relief washed over me. I could kiss him right now. I wasn't going to press him on his realization; I just wanted him to untie my hands and to go to bed. I wanted everything to go back to normal. I felt an overwhelming feeling that ate me alive as I choked on my breaths.

“I was so wrong, John,” he sobbed, “I shouldn’t have hit you, I shouldn’t have yelled at you or tried to force you to do something you didn’t want, I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry. I couldn’t just admit it and I let my damn pride get in the way... I— I don't get you." He tugged at the ropes.

"For what reason?"

"You're too naïve and forgiving," he said, "I hurt you emotionally and physically and you kept asking for more. You kept testing me just to prove something as stupid as love."

"Love... isn't stupid.”

"If it's genuine... love when it's new, blossoming like a typical romance novel.”

"But, I genuinely love you," I told him.

"After what? And for what reason?" he hissed. The rope was off my hands. “I’m such a fucking idiot. You deserve better. I told you I was going to fucking rape you! Why do you love me?!”

"Despite all you've done to me, you care for me. You have p-protected me. You're a good man, Hamilton, even if you've done... bad things. Jefferson is worse."

"So? I don't deserve love just because there are worse people.”

"You're missing the point," I mumbled. My hand trembled a bit as I search for his and lace our fingers together. "Doing bad things doesn't make you a bad person... in your heart, you are not a bad person at all."

"But I am—"

"If you were bad, why didn't you just take advantage of me, then?" I snapped. "You could have done it long ago, before this week, before I grew accustomed to you. Yet you didn't. Not even when you said you were going to. And when Jefferson whipped me? You yelled at him. I know you regret letting him. I know you regret the three mere whips you gave me. I know that you regret it.”

"John, I don't want you to love me because you think I protect you when I haven't," he murmured.

"Don't lie like that," I said.

"I do regret letting him whip you. I regret letting him hit you at all. I regret letting him merely believe I hurt you. Every time I see and feel the scars on your back I get a lump in my throat that makes me feel weak. It makes me sad that you've gotten hurt and that I'm the reason why. And I keep on hurting you,” his voice cracked and he tried to cover it in the darkness, “and hurting you and hurting you and hurting you... and it’s never going to stop. There’s something wrong with me, John! You shouldn't love me!"

"I can't help it!" I argued. "I can't help it. I would if I could but I can't.”

“I’m a fucking monster! I threatened to hunt you down just so I could have sex with you! Stop fucking being in love with me when I don’t deserve it,” he sobbed.

“I just want to hold you in my arms again! I just want to forget any of this happened.”

"But it did happen and I can't possibly forgive myself—" 

"I forgive you. Isn't that something? Please, let it mean something. Let me mean something to you," I whispered.

"You do mean something to me, John."

"Then embrace me. Just forget all of this that happened..."

"John... it doesn't work like that."

"Just for tonight," I begged, putting my arms around his waist, "just let tonight be the exception to the rules..."

"Okay," he said at last. He looked me up and down and unbuttoned his shirt, wrapping the white cotton over my shoulders. He was now shirtless and in only pants. Swallowing hard, I pulled my arms through the sleeves and buttoned it up halfway. Alexander got up and turned off the lamp before getting under the covers. I missed him so badly.

"I missed your hug," I muttered quietly under the blankets. "I missed holding you.”

"I missed you too," he mumbled.

"You said you'd never take me back. But I miss you so much... I miss this bed and I miss—"

"You can sleep in my bed again, John," he mumbled. I sighed happily and cuddled into his body more. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t want you to leave and I just got s-scared, I don’t know... I just wanted you to stop loving me... and then when I thought you really were going to I p-panicked, I don’t... I don’t know...” There was a while of silence before he spoke up shamefully, "John, can you hold me...?"

"Yes, of course," I answered hastily. He took his arms off of me and we flipped over so that he was the little spoon. I hugged his waist and laid my lips on the top of his head. "You're an asshole..."

"Don't forgive me, please."

"I don't. Not yet. I just needed this for me..."

I glanced up at the clock. It was two in the morning. After a while, I heard Alexander speaking softly.

"You're not a useless whore," he said. It was the faintest of whispers; as if he said it to himself rather than to me. I didn't respond. I felt like he was crying again. I wanted to cry, too, just out of the feeling of missing him so badly. Seeing him so vulnerable made me nervous, even. He's never truly cried in front of me before. I felt better and more confident now. I felt in control; finally, I felt less like a slave and more like me.

I just held on to his waist more tightly to reassure him.


	29. All’s Well

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Politics

The next morning, I was relieved to see that last night wasn't a dream. He was actually here and I was actually in his arms. I was cuddling him under the blankets in real life. It wasn't a fantasy.

I felt him shift, he rolled over in bed to face me. His chocolate eyes were much more beautiful in the daylight.

"Hamilton," I mumbled, looking up at him.

"John," he said. After a moment of staring, he leaned towards me and closed his eyes, leaving a delightful, lingering kiss on my lips. I wrapped my arms around his neck to hold our bodies unitedly.

"I missed you," I said after a moment. I shifted to get on top of him, hugging his chest. I kissed his neck, the covers still over us.

“You shouldn’t. You shouldn’t act like this is normal.” He buried his face in my neck, fist closed against my chest. “You trusted me and I...”

“Hey. No. I’m sorry, I— I was an ass, too, and we’re both to blame. It’s over now. Just so long as we can forgive and move on... try to forget... it’ll take time but I promise, you can trust me. And I trust you. But you must understand...”

"What is it?"

"As long as you and I have relations, I am not your slave. Perhaps outside, but not here. In confidence, I am a man, and you must respect me as such. I cannot continue this with a man who believes he has authority over me. You scared me, Hamilton. You fucking scared me."

"I don't know what's wrong with me," he muttered. I felt wetness on my collarbone where his face was pressed against me, hugging me as if his life depended on it— they were tears. He was crying again.

"I can't love that part of you that hurt me, okay? Do you know why? Because that's not you," I answered my own question. "You're not this high and mighty slave-owning ass. You're like fucking... soft little doughy shit inside a fragile crust. That's what I love, okay? The real you, what's inside; not the threatening one. And believe me, that is meant to be a compliment."

"I'm so sorry..."

Several moments passed. I continued rubbing circles on his back, holding him close. 

"We should get dressed now, John," Alexander mumbled and kissed my temple. I held onto him tighter.

"Just another moment or so in bed," I murmured.

"Very well," Alexander pulled the covers back up and almost smiled.

When we got up and dressed for real, at around ten in the morning, Alexander kept distracting me by grabbing my wrist and kissing me. I had to eventually pry him off of me, chuckling, before getting back to the bathroom to shower. He went downstairs by then as I got in the shower, got out, and got dressed.

"Where is John?" I heard Lafayette say as I went down the stairs.

"Over there, Laf, calm down," Alexander pointed to me. I found myself smiling at the men.

"Bonjour, John, are you alright?" he asked. I nodded. Mulligan glared at Alexander.

"I am fine," I reassured them, going past them to the kitchen for late breakfast. Lafayette joined me. Mulligan stayed behind, talking to Alexander.

"John, what happened? Mulligan and I, we heard your screaming last night, we heard a struggle and crying, are you alright?" Lafayette asked, putting his hand on my shoulder, "Did Alexander really...?"

I turned away. I wasn't sure if Alexander would want me telling anybody that he didn't hurt me last night. Was that a weird thing?

"Please, tell me he did not," Lafayette pleaded quietly. I grabbed the plates from the cabinet and set them on the counter. "John!"

"Lafayette—" I begin, he grabs my hands and looks at my wrists. His eyebrows furrow and he looks upset. I pull my hands away from him and begin again. "Lafayette, I will tell you, but you must promise not to tell anybody else."

"I promise, my friend," he murmured.

"Thank you," I sighed quietly. "Alexander did not hurt me last night..."

"What happened to your wrists?" he asked.

"He did tie my hands but I swear—"

"John."

"—he did not hurt me."

"John," he repeated, "why would he tie your hands if—"

"He was going to, but he didn't. That's all I can tell you," I said.

"John, are you telling the truth?"

"Yes, Lafayette, I promise I am telling the truth. I am a strong man, and I wouldn't let him hurt me. He and I, we are lovers, you just happened to come at a time that he and I were in a fight." "John, that power dynamic seems rather unbalanced..." "Alexander knows his place. He knows that he cannot push me around," I told him. He sighed and looked down at his feet. "Don't tell him that I told you about this."

"Why not?"

"He may be upset. He gets a bit upset over little things like this... it's just complicated. Just... his reputation, his ego, his pride..."

"I will take your word for it, John. But if I found out that he really did force himself on you, I will personally strangle him, alright?"

"Alright," I half-chuckled bitterly.

Things were okay again. I cleaned like normal and Alexander didn't bother at me. Later, after lunch, I got bored. I went downstairs where Alexander was talking to Lafayette and Mulligan. It felt like their same conversation from the past week had been going on. What happened in France, current events, who cheated on who, which countries tried to outlaw slavery, etc. I walked to the sofa and sat down next to Alexander.

"Mr. Hamilton," I whispered, leaning up to him with a smirk.

"Yes, John?" he asked. Lafayette stopped talking to listen to the side conversation.

"I'm finished with the chores," I told him.

"Very well. Then, uh, would you like to sit...? If you want," he added the last bit quickly, then put a hand on my leg and I sat on the sofa next to him. Mulligan gave Lafayette a weird look and Lafayette slowly went back to talking.

"Anyway... a friend of mine in London said that their country had stopped the circulation of slave trade completely. Not that it existed much at all anyway.”

"That's why the economy in England is so horrible," Alexander complained. I rolled my eyes and put my head in my hands, turning away from the conversation.

"Mon Cher Alexander, it's as if your political views changed completely," Lafayette said.

"It makes more sense," he said. I sighed.

"Not really. I am wealthy, but you don't see me owning slaves.”

"You were born into it. I made my living off of the slave trade."

"Alex, do you realize how horrible that sounds?" Mulligan asked.

"It's not that horrible. Even if slavery was illegal, the poor and the criminals would still be stepped all over. Besides, it's not racism anymore. The people who are slaves are ones who have committed crimes," Alexander explains. I huff again and close my eyes.

"Sally was born into it," Mulligan points out. "It's not her fault that her mother was a slave before her."

"Yes, but her former slave owner was black as well."

"Her former owner treated her like shit."

"Well, I don't," he says.

"Maybe you don't, but other men do," Lafayette reasons, "and I know it is not racism any longer, but it was founded on racism."

"Gil, we're living in a more progressive age," Alexander says. "Thirty years from now, I'm sure things will change. The circulation will be only criminals, and there will be laws making slave-born children free."

"That's not how it works."

"Look at how much it's changed already, though," he reasons.

"Alexander."

"The compromise of the civil war was to keep slavery but stop the imports. Ten years later, the compromise changed more, adding the amendment that made slavery an alternative to prison. Since then, many African descendants have had slaves of their own. Take Thomas for example, and Madison, and even the president. It's not racism that oppresses us. The hundreds of thousands of men who died in the war didn't die to just have what they worked for abolished.”

"But, Alex, your past relatives didn't even fight in the civil war," Lafayette complains.

"Neither did yours or Hercules'. It's opportunity, not a matter of oppression."

"You've been brainwashed," Mulligan groaned.

"Brainwashed," Alexander repeated, scoffing. I groaned a bit and let out yet another sigh, eyes still closed.

"Yes. The time you spent with Thomas—"

"I told you, both of you, Thomas and I aren't even friends any longer. We haven't been for..." Alexander sighed, "three or four months at least. Maybe even five. I've moved on."

"Kid, neither of us mind that you were in a—"

"Shut up, Mulligan," Alexander snapped. I flinched but tried not to show it.

"Jesus Christ, watch it. You don't even care about ethics anymore."

"I do care. Now's just... not the time for such radicalism."

"Yeah, sure," I muttered. The other men glanced at me in surprise and, for Lafayette and Mulligan, slight worry. I just sighed and went on, "if we are not radical now, when will we ever be?"

"John, that—"

"It's unreasonable," I explained, "because if we stay quiet, instead of speaking out for the people who don't have voices, we are making a decision to hold our peace. That, to me, is wrong. Horribly wrong. People have died to give everyone in our country a voice, and now we capitalize off of unwilling labor and cruelty. How does that not deserve radicalism?"

Alexander sighed and looked out of the corner of his eyes at the clock on the wall. I crossed my arms and just stole a knowing glance with Lafayette before smirking to myself and closing my eyes. The only sound in the room, for a moment or two, was the pendulum of the clock moving back and forth. 

Tick, tock. 

Tick, tock.

"I suppose every man is entitled to his own opinion," Alexander spoke at last.

Tick, tock.


	30. Another Visit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jefferson is the epitome of the negative side of Murphey’s Law, guys.

"John," Alexander whispered. I looked up from where my head still resting in my hands. We both were still sitting on the sofa— I must have dozed off.

"Yes?" I mumbled, stretching.

"I was going to go upstairs to bed."

"Okay," I yawned. "Where are Lafayette and Mulligan?"

"In the kitchen, probably rummaging my cabinets," he said, helping me up off of the couch. We were halfway up the stairs when he mumbled, "John,"

"Yes?"

"Thomas will be here again tomorrow," he said. I wanted to push him down the stairs. "Just... follow my lead like last time, okay?"

"Okay," I whispered. "Why does he come so often anyhow?"

"Complicated reasons. I'll explain later."

"And what of Mulligan and Lafayette?"

"They will be there as well. They, too, will have to keep quiet about their opinions. As you know, Thomas is a powerful man in this country. He's not somebody you want to cross."

"Well, what about the president?" I asked. "Can't he do something about it?"

"Thomas has his first amendment rights," Alexander says.

"I don't, though," I reminded him sharply. I sighed and held onto his hands as we enter the bedroom. When we laid on the bed, I pulled him down to my lips. It felt so nice to kiss him; so comforting and loving.

"Did you miss that?" I whispered under my breath. Alexander kissed me again, lingering on my lips for a moment.

"I'd be lying if I said I didn't," he admitted.

"I missed it too," I told him. He kissed my neck. I continued talking, "When I said I didn't want to come back I was lying— mm... just so you know."

Alexander laughed a little bit and continued to shower my neck in slow kisses.

"And also, when I was being an asshole, I was doing it just to get you mad," I admitted.

"I know you were." He smiled at me sadly. He was straddling me on the bed by now. His hand went to my face and grazed over my cheek and temple. I winced. "I'm so sorry."

"No, no, it's okay," I reassured him.

"No, I'm sorry. The bruise from Thomas was just starting to go away and now you have another from me. F-from all the times I hurt you over this past week." He continued to brush the side of my face. His thumb moved over my other eye. His eyes were watering.

"It's fine, Mr. Hamilton," I reassured him.

"It's not fine," he whispered. "Half of your face is beaten because of me."

"Mr. Hamilton—" "John, Jesus, just call me Alex." He stared at my blank expression. "Are you really that surprised that after all this I want to be called by my first name...?" I blinked. "—Alex. Haha, uh, Alex... It's fine, really. It didn't hurt that badly. You can't slap for shit," I smiled a bit at the last part, trying to get him to cheer up. He chuckled half-heartedly and pecked my lips in a withdrawn matter. Alexander rolled off of me, onto his back, and I straddled him in return, trying to make light.

"I can't possibly forgive myself. Just look at all of the scars you've gotten since you arrived," he whispered. His hand went up the skirt and over my thigh where Lee had cut me. There was just a scar, now; a rigid one that was deep. His other hand unzipped my dress and touched the scars from the whipping. I sighed and rested my head on his chest, laying on top of him, as he touched the scars.

"I'll be alright," I told him.

"And you'll be alright tomorrow as well? When Thomas comes?"

"Of course." I smiled. "Whatever life throws, you know... I can take it. I've lasted this long."

"Good," he mumbled, hand still rubbing up and down my back slowly.

I pulled off the rest of my dress, then my stockings and hair tie, watching as Alexander stripped down to his socks and underwear. I was about to get up and change but Alexander kissed me again, his hand moving to my chest as he pulled me into his body.

“Can we sleep like this?” He pulled away with light breaths. “If you don’t want to, that’s fine, I just thought it might be nice to just... hold on to one another.”

“It’s fine,” I mumbled, getting under the covers. Alexander got up, turned off the bedroom lights, and crawled back and got under the covers in just his underwear. I wrapped my arms around his waist under the blankets and kissed him again. After a while he pulled away, laying his head on my chest.

“John,” he breathed a bit heavily. His hands stayed on my back.

“Yes?”

“You’re stronger than I am. You’re more persistent and smart. I hate to admit it, but it’s true,” he kissed underside my jaw, “and sometimes I’m afraid of myself. I’m prideful and weak... and there’s something wrong with me. If ever you don’t want to do something or if you want to get away, call Peggy.”

“You’re worrying me, Alexander, what’re you talking about?” I whispered.

“I don’t know. Never mind. Don’t listen to me,” he buried his face in my neck again, mumbling against it, “I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

• • •

"Today?" Lafayette exclaimed.

"Yes, in just about ten minutes," Alexander said. "You two need to keep your liberal mouths shut. I cannot have my reputation ruined."

"We will not shut up! I used to be close friends with that man, Alexander, I don't care if he wants to tell me off! If Jefferson says something that—"

"Laf," Mulligan sighed, "just for today. Let the man have his precious reputation."

"I—" Lafayette groaned, "Fine. Only for the time he is here. Then—"

"Mr. Hamilton, Mr. Jefferson is at the door,” Martha interrupted.

"Let him in," Alexander sighed. He turned to me quietly, "Try to follow my lead again today, alright? No matter what, I won't let you get hurt."

"Wow, thanks, Alex," I mumbled.

"Thomas," Alexander said, turning to Jefferson as he entered the room, Martha holding his coat.

"Hamilton," he surveyed the room, “the Marquis de Lafayette, Hercules Mulligan. The two of you are here as well."

"Yes," Lafayette said curtly, “pleasure to see you, Mr. Jefferson.”

"And the slave. A true pleasure to see you again," he said to me. I kept my head down, teeth grinding. I swear, if I wasn't a slave I'd have punched him by now. The men all went to sit on the sofas. I stood still, hands folded in front of me.

"Mr. Hamilton, would you like anything to drink?" I asked dryly, head still down.

"Bring out some wine," he ordered. I turned to Jefferson.

"And you, Mr. Jefferson?"

"Red wine," he said.

"Mr. Mulligan and Monsieur Lafayette?"

"White wine," they said in unison. I nodded and left the living room.

"John," Theodosia said to me as I got the wine from the cabinet.

"Yes?"

"Are you sleeping with the master again?"

"In what way?" I asked. I sighed. "I'm sleeping in Alex's bed again, why?"

"I was just worried... because the past week you weren't on good terms with him and he hit you..."

"I know. It's okay again, though," I tell her. Sally looked up reluctantly. She gave me a sad look as though she may cry again. I gave her a reassuring smile. "Don't worry, Sal... he didn't hurt me too badly. I can take it. And he’s not a bad man, I promise, so don’t be afraid of him."

"Okay," she whispered. "Who is the guest out in the common room?"

"Mr. Jefferson," I said. She turned pale. She looked like she was going to have a breakdown.

"You better go take the wine out," she whispered. I did that.

I poured three glasses of white wine and one glass of red. Jefferson examined my face for a moment.

"I see you've been punishing him lately, Alex," Jefferson said, eyebrow raised. I looked at Alexander who looks especially hurt, just like the previous night when he was trying to avoid crying.

"Yes, I have," he said. Lafayette fumed.

"What'd he do this time?"

“Absolument rien, il est innocent,” Lafayette growled.

"Does it really matter, Thomas?" Alexander asked.

"It does. You know why I'm here. Answer the question."

Alexander looked at me and made eye contact. I swallowed the lump in my throat. I gave consenting eye contact.

"Not listening— i-in bed," Alexander says. His face was slightly pale. His eyes were glassy. Why was he so good at hiding emotion?

“Tu es dégoûtant—“ Lafayette paused and growled under his breath, "Alexandre, tu es hypocrite! Après tout ce que Jefferson t'a fait, tu as tourné le dos à Laurens comme un serpent!"

“Lafayette, stop it,” Mulligan warned. Lafayette crossed his arms, his teeth grinding.

"I see. And I see you like to run your mouth to your friends as well, Alex. But that is not the point. The point is him..." Jefferson looked up at me. It was as if he was trying to imagine me being beaten by Alexander while I cry and writhe in bed. It was as if he is pleased with the fact that I'm hurting. “—trying to grow a backbone.”

“He...” Alexander looked at a loss for words as he stared at me. Lafayette kept his eyes fixated at the ground, while the other three men looked at me. I made eye-contact with Alexander. He took a deep breath. “He knows his place, though. Right?”

“Yes, Sir,” I breathed, maintaining eye contact.

"Oh, my God," I heard Lafayette say under his breath.

Alexander cleared his throat and looked up at me. "J— slave, you are dismissed," he said. He almost said my name. I sighed, not realizing I had been holding my breath for a while.

"Yes, Sir," I said quietly. I went to the kitchen, my eyes immediately going to Sally, who was crying and trying to slice onions. Her hands were shaking too much. "Sally," I whispered.

"Yes?" She looked up, tears threatening to spill over her waterline.

I said nothing and just crossed the kitchen to hug her. She buried her face in my shoulder and cried.

"Whatever happened with Mr. Jefferson—"

"John," Theodosia said strictly.

"No, no, I want to tell him," Sally sniffled, "he deserves to know."

"What happened?" I asked.

"I used to be his slave... before I was Mr. Hamilton's... he would hurt me and he would... h-he would..." she covered her mouth to stop a sob. "He had intercourse with m-me..."

"Sally, oh my god," I whispered and hugged her tightly. I felt myself choke up.

"He told me not to tell anyone, h-he said he loved me," she cried. "Mr. Hamilton would always come over and he wasn't mean to me... but Mr. Jefferson got upset because he found out I was pregnant."

I covered my mouth. I thought I was going to puke.

"The baby is with him," she whispered, "Mr. Hamilton took me away from that... the agreement was that Mr. Jefferson would get my baby and money to buy a new slave, and Mr. Hamilton would have me as his slave. He's never hurt me, John, and when he hit you I just..."

"Shh," I soothed. I wiped the tears out of my eyes, still hugging her, "it's okay... it's not like that between Alexander and I, I promise."

"Every time he comes to check up on Mr. Hamilton," Sally cried, "I just can't help it, I'm sorry..."

"Don't be sorry, you didn't do anything wrong."

"I know, I'm just..." she choked out a bit of a sob, "he still has my baby... I don't know, maybe he sold him... I don't know..."

"It's okay, Sally, it's okay," I whispered. I just rubbed her back as she cried on my shoulder harder.

"Mr. Hamilton has been so nice to me, and I-I just couldn't bear the thought of you going through what I did."

"It's okay," I insisted quietly. "It's all going to be alright..."

“Why would Mr. Hamilton hurt you, John?”

“Because, I...” I trailed off, sucking in a breath. “It's complicated. I made him angry on purpose, though, knowing he would hurt me. And Alex wasn't in the greatest state of mind."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah."


	31. Disagreements

"Please tell me you were not serious about what you did to John," Lafayette had pleaded after Jefferson left. I went to Alexander and sat next to him.

“He wasn't,” I said, Alexander simultaneously saying “I wasn’t”. He went on:

“I did not hurt him. I wouldn’t do something so... vile," Alexander said. I let out a big puff of air I had been holding for a while. It was as if weight was being lifted off my shoulders; two more people knowing that Alexander did not, and would not, force himself on me.

"Praise God," Lafayette sighed, leaning back on the sofa that was across from Alexander and I. Mulligan looked relieved as well.

"Thank heavens," Mulligan murmured.

"Au moins, tu ne vas pas devenir Jefferson!" Lafayette exclaimed. I winced, now knowing more about Jefferson's horrible mistreatment of slaves.

"I will never be Thomas," Alexander growled a bit. I sighed, exasperated, and turned away.

"He surely had an influence on you, though. And now you are letting him control your every move! Tu mens pour garder ta réputation!"

"Que se passe-t'il si je me fais jeter en prison pour avoir sympathisé avec des esclaves?" Alexander said. I sighed. Why did they have to speak French? Of course, I spoke French as well, so they were wasting their breath.

"Je ne sais pas. But you will go fighting for what is moral."

"The world is too corrupt to ever change so quickly. Fighting for something like that now, something so corporate, is pointless. Ne laissez pas vos idées irréalistes vous aveugler à la réalité cruelle," Alexander sighed.

I cleared my throat to break up a fight. "Don’t you think it is time for dinner?"

"Oh. Yes, perhaps it is," Alexander said.

"I will go check with Sally and Theodosia," I whispered, standing up from the sofa and going to the kitchen. "Hey," I said. "Is dinner done yet?"

"Yes, we'll bring it to the table," Theodosia replies. I go back out and tell the men that they can come to the dining room.

"I'll be in the kitchen," I told Alexander.

"No, John, stay and eat dinner with us," he told me.

"But, I normally eat dinner with Theodosia and Sally in the kitchen—"

"I implore you," he said. I nodded and went to the dining room with him. I sat next to him and across from Lafayette.

"Oh," Martha said quietly. She cleared her throat, "Ah, should I bring out another plate?"

"Yes," Alexander told her. She nodded and went to the kitchen and brought out a plate for me. When she set it down, she glanced at my lap, where I was discreetly holding hands with Alexander. Her eyebrows drew together a bit but she turned away quickly, leaving the room without another word.

I stayed silent. I knew proper meal etiquette from my life growing up as a spoiled rich boy, but it's been a while since I've had to apply it.

"Are you going to eat anything, John?" Lafayette asks, his fork suspended near his lips with a piece of chicken on it.

"Yes, yes," I whispered and looked down at the food. Sighing a bit, I began to eat with my left hand. My right hand was still in Alexander's. He ate with his right.

Alexander cleared his throat. His fork clinked against his plate as he set it down and wiped his lips. "So..."

"So...?" Mulligan inquired slowly.

"Uh... you two are leaving tomorrow morning, correct?"

"Oui," Lafayette says. "Vous serez gentil avec le esclave quand nous serons absents, non?"

"Yes, Lafayette." Alexander huffed.

"Good," Mulligan interjected.

"I don't know why the two of you are so set on this. Hercules, you owned slaves."

"Slave," he corrected, "just the one, when I was a younger man— and I freed him."

"Whatever you say. Cato still accompanies you many places though, doesn't he? Where is he? I haven't seen him in years," Alexander said. I took another bite of my food.

"He's in New Jersey. I told him to visit you when I was abroad with Lafayette; I'm assuming he didn't, however, due to the friction between the two of you."

"Friction?" Alexander scoffed a bit. "I wasn't aware that there was friction."

"You haven't been the kindest to him. I suppose he's a bit afraid of you, being a slave-owner and all. And do you know what I had to go through to get him freed? It cost me thousands of dollars that I'm still in debt for, even after five years," Mulligan huffed. Lafayette snorted a bit.

"It also cost your reputation," Alexander said. I pinched his thigh and he yelped, giving me a side-glare.

"Jesus Christ, Alex—"

"I was just reminding you," he shrugged. I held tightly onto his hand and sighed, pushing my plate away. "Aren't you going to eat anymore?" he asked.

I glanced down at the mostly full plate. I looked back up at him. "I'm not hungry."

"Surely you must be."

"Alexander," Lafayette cut in, "perhaps he hasn't worked up an appetite after being nearly starved."

"Starved?" Alexander looked disgusted.

"Yes. Look at the man— I'm sure you can see his ribs if not for that silly dress."

"Silly—" Alexander paused and stared. He looked me up and down. "Come on, John, eat a bit more."

"I'm not hungry," I insisted.

"But you must be! You've barely eaten all day!"

"People cannot eat much after they are starving, mon cher Alexander. His stomach could have— how you say? Shinked?"

"Shrunk," Mulligan mumbled to him.

"Ah, yes, shrunk, I am embarrassed, that was quite obvious."

"But I haven't starved him. Have I been starving you, John?" Alexander argued, looking back at me. I shook my head 'no'. "See?" Alexander said, "I feed my slaves meals three times a day. More than they would feed one if they were in the military."

"I'm just not very hungry," I mumbled.

"Very well," Alexander sighed. "Go take away your plate."

"Right," I said. I stand up with the plate and go to the kitchen.

"You're eating with him now, John?" Theodosia asked. She seemed very genuinely curious.

"It was just for one dinner," I whispered. "What do I do with scrap food?"

"You've barely eaten any!" Sally gasped and swiped my plate. She dug the spoon in and took a bite of mashed squash. "Mm," she sighed, "sweet, sweet squash... if it's been a year, it's been a lifetime."

"I don't think that's how the saying goes—"

"Shut up, Theo!" Sally snapped playfully, taking another bite of squash.

After dinner, Alexander and I went upstairs. I showered and changed into one of his shirts for bed. He was sitting on the edge of the bed, seemingly deep in thought.

"Are you okay?" I whispered, sitting next to him. Alexander snapped out of it and put his hand under my leg, smiling and pulling me closer. I kissed him tenderly and straddled him. He leaned back on the bed. After a while of kissing, he began to unbutton my shirt. I chuckled and bit his lip gently, tugging a little. He pushed his lips against mine again and his tongue grazed over my bottom lip swiftly. I gasped as his cold hand touched my chest and his tongue went into my mouth. 

Alexander's hand went over my side. His kisses began to withdraw a bit as he slowly pulled away.

"Alex," I hummed, touching my lips to his neck. His knuckles grazed gently over my ribs.

"John," he said sternly.

"Yes?" 

"I can see your ribs," he told me. I laughed a bit and looked down at his hand which was feeling over my chest and ribcage.

"Yes, and?"

"Why the hell can I see your ribs?" he asked. 

“Because I’m skinny?”

"John, are you not eating?"

I didn't answer his question. I just pulled the shirt over my chest and hugged myself a bit, still sitting on his stomach. He grabbed my wrist and tugged me so that my hand was pinned next to his head from where he lay down and where I still straddled him. I pinned him down, beginning to kiss his neck but he pushed me away.

"John," he insisted.

"I was starving in prison, Alex. It was difficult for me to eat now, and I guess I've just forgotten," I said, "it's nothing malicious, I promise."

"I didn't think it was malicious," he told me, "it's just sad... I don't like seeing your ribs so easily. None of my slaves, not you, not any of them, should be starving. I'm not... Thomas."

"Do you care or do you feel bad?" I asked.

"Both," he assured me. "It may be a reputation thing as well, but I do care. I don't treat my slaves cruelly like he."

"Of course," I mumbled. I end up slowly lowering and laying my head on his chest, still on top of him.

"Please be sure to eat," he whispered.

"I will, get off my back, you cranky crab." I smiled and brushed my hands over his sides, tickling him slightly. Alexander stifled giggles and squirmed out from under me. He grabbed my wrists firmly to stop me from tickling him

"Thank you," he mumbled. He kissed me again before pulling me down and nuzzling his head in my neck. I wrapped my arms around him.


	32. Goodbyes Accompanied By Too Much Whiskey

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Drunk boiz
> 
> John’s a top

"Goodbye, Lafayette," I smiled. He hugged me. It was a bit startling, but I hugged the lanky man back with a laugh.

"Goodbye, John. I will miss you," he said. "Call my home on the landline if you need anything."

"Of course," I replied. 

I saw Mulligan ruffling up Alexander's hair nearby. He said something quietly to him. It sounded something like, "Make good choices."

After the two men left, I followed Alexander to the kitchen. He reached into the alcohol cabinet.

"What's that for? Would you like me to pour you a drink?" I asked. Alexander looked out of the corner of his eyes and sighed.

"John, have you ever had alcohol?"

"Yes, of course," I told him. "In secondary school with some of my friends, frequently. It was a while before I ever got arrested."

"Student drinking," he smirked a bit and shook his head.

"As if you haven't."

"Oh, I have." He raised an eyebrow.

"You know, I'm not a weak, innocent boy. I once was a... how would you say, a rebellious young man? I had muscles, I liked to drink, people didn't mess with me."

"What changed, rebel?" He smirked.

"When I got arrested and thrown in prison I was starved... I sort of lost my confidence after being beaten up on multiple occasions."

"Well, John, would you like another taste of rebellion?" Alexander waved the bottle of whiskey in front of my face.

"Pardon, but when did Jesus turn water into whiskey?" I asked, smiling. He rolled his eyes and smiled.

"Well?"

"Sure," I laughed.

I walked with him to the sofas in the parlor and sat down next to him. He uncapped the whiskey and handed it to me.

"Like a Neanderthal, from the bottle?" I whispered, smirking.

"Go on," he urged. I brought the whiskey bottle to my lips and took a slow sip. It had been a while since I had alcohol. I began to cough in an attempt to keep the strong drink down. Alexander laughed a bit and took the bottle from my hand, taking his own swig. He coughed too, more than I had. I laughed at him.

"You're—" I cleared my throat and laughed, "—not a hard drinker, are you?"

"Shut up," he coughed. I laughed and leaned back on the sofa, snatched the whiskey from his hands, kissed him quickly on the lips, and took another sip. A little bit spilled over the corners of my lips. "How adorable," Alexander chuckled, taking the bottle back to outdo my drinking. 

We went back and forth until I built up the courage to chug it. Alexander watched carefully and hiccuped before snatching it from me mid-drink. I whined at him. "Too much," he scolded.

“You don’t tell m—“ I slurred, pausing as I tried to remember the words, “—me it’s too much.”

“Mm... John, you can’t have so much whiskey at once.” 

"Alex~" I slurred a bit, a hiccup following, "I can handle it. I'm a man~."

"Jesus, I've gotten you drunk," he groaned. I chuckled and crawled into his lap. "John."

"Yes?" I purred into his ear, grinding just slightly. His hands were on my hips.

"John, what are you doing?" he whispered harshly.

"Don't snap at me, Ale—" I choked slightly on my words, "—xander." I let my lips fall onto his neck sloppily.

"We should go upstairs," he sighed. I perked up smiled.

"Please! I'd like that... very much," I whispered. He pulled me to my feet and I jumped into his arms, his hands holding me up as I wrapped my limbs around him. I barely cared how he leaned back like he was going to drop me. Alexander began to carry me upstairs and I closed my eyes, leaning against his shoulder and giggling. “Wow, aren’t you a big, strong man?” I chuckled, nibbling at his ear. He made a started noise and almost dropped me, hoisting me back up so I was swung over his shoulder. "Will you love me~?" I whispered through laughter as he locked the bedroom door.

Alexander drew towards me and sighed.

"You should shower and get to bed, you're drunk," he told me. I heard him slur his words a bit.

"So are you," I whispered, voice sultry.

"I'm not as drunk. You chugged that whiskey. Get to bed, John, now," he commanded. I was a bit surprised at first but I smirked, nodding and going to the divider. I looked through the closet and found what I needed before hiding the clothes under my arms, nearly falling over a few times as I stumbled to the bathroom.

As I peeled off my maid's dress I tried not to giggle. I pulled on a pair of underwear and one of Alexander’s cotton shirts, leaving it unbuttoned. I laughed at myself in the mirror and flexed. Then, I fixed my hair to give myself a messy appearance before finding some sort of perfume and spraying it on myself in a few select places. Neck especially. I shoved my clothes aside and stumbled gracefully out of the bathroom. Alexander looked up from where he sat on the bed in his bathrobe.

"John," Alexander said slowly. I could see the desire in his eyes as I moved towards him and pushed him down onto the bed.

"You like it?" I whispered lustfully, my lips on his temple.

"John," he repeated. “Is that— is that perfume? I own perfume?” 

"I want to be yours~ come on, Alex, love me," I mumbled, touching sloppy kisses on his neck. 

"John," he said again. "Get off of me. You can't do this," he told me.

"You can't lie to me— I know you want it," I held onto his wrists, continuing to pin him to the bed. I moved down his neck with kisses. "I can love you..."

"John," he said again. "Stop."

"All the dirty, dirty things I could do to you," I growled a little. "You'd never know that I'm not the one who owns you... I could make you mine... keep you begging for more... Are you a good boy, Alex? Or, what should I call you?" I leaned down and put my lips by his ear. I hummed, "Tonight, you could be my slave. Do as I say..."

"John! Stop!"

"Aw, don't be like that..."

"John, I'm s-serious. Stop."

"Why— why don't you want it?!" I asked angrily, pulling away. My eyes began to well up. "You always want to do this, why is now any different? And why do you get to dictate everything like some k-kind of— dictator?!"

"You're drunk! I— I can't have sex with you when you're drunk!" he argued.

"I won't care in the morning! Just love me!"

"N-no, you need to stop. Right now."

I groaned and collapsed on top of him, hugging his shoulders.

"Alexander, " I whined sorrowfully. I felt like I was going to cry. "Please, love me. Don't leave me."

"I won't leave you, but you're drunk. Hell, you won't remember this conversation tomorrow."

"Please, I love you," I whimpered, clutching onto him tearfully. I felt my voice crack.

He sighed and hugged my waist.

"Let's go to bed, John, okay? I don't want to take advantage of you when you're drunk."

"But Lexi," I whimpered helplessly. I heard him draw in a breath.

"What'd you just call me?"

"Your name."

"No, I understand that, I just—" He sighed. I tried kissing him again but he pushed me off of him. Alexander got up and went to turn off the lights before pulling me under the covers with him.

"I want you to love me," I cried. "I want to feel love. I want your love. Please don't leave me, Alexander, please love me."

"Naïve," I heard him mutter. I continued to cry in my drunken state. "But so am I. Since you won't remember this... I love you too, John."

"I love you," I whispered tearfully. "Please don't leave."

"I'm not leaving," he hummed quietly, hugging me closely. I fell asleep crying into his chest.


	33. Drunk’s Interlude

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hangover sucks amiright?

I woke up feeling like I was going to puke. My head was aching and my heartbeat pounded in my ears. I instinctively moved to get out of bed, having to close my eyes due to the bright sun. It irritated me beyond belief as I stumbled towards the direction of the bathroom.

Knelt over the toilet, I began to vomit. The burning smell and taste were killing me. When I had finished, my stomach finally feeling empty of all fluids and my mouth tasting like spoiled milk, I found my way to the sink. I rinsed my mouth, not looking at the light above the mirror in fear of my eyes burning out of my skull. That's how it felt, anyway.

"John," I heard Alexander say. I spit the water out of my mouth and turned off the sink, looking up at him. He was leaning against the doorway.

"Morning," I mumbled and wiped my lips. I put a hand to my forehead and groaned a bit as my head hurt when I looked down. 

"Noon, actually," he crossed his arms. I noticed that I was wearing something I didn't remember putting on; just boxers and an unbuttoned shirt. Why was it unbuttoned? I couldn’t even remember what happened last night.

"Alexander, did we...?"

"No," he said quickly, a blush creeping onto his cheeks. I sighed in relief and tilted my head back, wincing at the pain. "John, come, lay down."

"Okay," I mumbled. I couldn't protest that, the bed felt nice and I longed desperately to sleep again. Alexander put a hand on my back and walked me to the bed.

"Do you remember last night at all?" he asked.

"Mm," I groaned, "not since I was chugging the alcohol. After that, I remember going upstairs... at some point there was a bed and I fell asleep. Can't remember much more, though."

Alexander sighed a bit, perhaps looking relieved.

"Why? Did anything happen?"

"No," he told me. “Honest question and in no relation to yours, would you be mad at me if I had drunk sex with you?”

“What?! Yes, yes I would!” I said immediately.

“Told you,” he muttered under his breath.

“Did we?”

“No." He shook his head quickly. “No, no, it’s simply— drunk John seemed like he wanted to. But we didn’t do anything, I promise, I wouldn’t do that to you.”

I didn't have the energy to doubt him right now.

"What time is it?" I asked.

"Around twelve... I'll get you something to eat," he said. I nodded slowly and snuggled into the blankets. Alexander left the room, not returning. Sally, however, returned holding a tray. She pushed her curly hair out of her eyes and yawned.

"Thank you, Sally," I whispered. She nodded.

"Of course. I brought you water as well... make sure you drink more water next time you drink alcohol, John."

"Thanks," I said. She smiled and left.

I ate the bread and eggs, desperately chugging the cold water. It felt so nice going down my throat after I puked my guts out in the bathroom. After eating, I curled up into the blankets and just slept. My head still hurt and the light still shone through the gaps in the curtains, but falling asleep was an easy task.


	34. Desireable (Reprise)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

After my hangover recovery the next day, I went back to bothering Alexander while he worked. I had an odd feeling that something had happened between us when we got drunk but I couldn't remember at all. The thought both interested and frightened me. I don't think he took advantage of me; despite everything, it's not something I believe he'd do. I trust him. Aside from that, of course, I think I may have said something or he may have said something that he doesn't want to tell me.

"Alexander," I said his name like a declaratory statement, coming into his office.

"Yes, John?" He looked up from the typewriter.

"I'm bored," I complained.

"God, you're bothersome," he groaned and got up from the desk. I smiled in satisfaction with getting him away from his work and walked over to the sofa to sit next to him. It was just a natural thing now, it was comforting to be with him.

I pressed my forehead against his as I sat there, hand on his lap. He sighed and pressed our lips together briefly.

"Hey, will you tell me more about yourself?" I whispered.

"What do you want to know?"

"What should I know?" I flipped the question.

"Well, ask me something."

I sighed and thought of something to ask. "What's your favorite color?"

"Green," he said after a moment. That was odd, however, as half of his furniture was white or red. "And yours?"

"Blue," I told him. "Like a blue jay."

"Blue jays are assholes," he said. I chuckled.

"I could care less. They're beautiful to draw."

"You draw?"

"Yes, ah, paint too," I told him. "I used to draw all the time. Everything in nature... I'd talk to my father's slaves in the fields and paint the birds and plants. My father didn't like it that much and threatened to disown me if I didn't, 'get my shit together' and 'attend law school'. Guess I'll never do that now, huh?"

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be," I laughed a little, "I hate business and law. This is the price I have to pay for being nice, though, right?"

Alexander chuckled a little, running his fingers through my hair. “Something tells me that you weren’t all that nice when you were free.”

“Fuck off,” I chuckled. He pulled out my tie from my hair and kissed my neck. "Mm," I hummed and bit my lip as he sucked on my collarbone. "What about your favorite book?"

"I don't have one," he whispered, hands still tangling in my hair as he rested his chin on my shoulder. "I've read too many." He sighed and mumbled, "Have you ever loved anybody before me?"

I thought for a moment. Not exactly. I had some feelings for a friend of mine but he didn't return the affection. Ergo, I wouldn't call it love so much as a crush. Couldn't even remember his name. 

And then there was a guy from secondary school that I ended up kissing when we were teenagers... but nothing more. I was lucky he didn't beat me to death or something. That happens to homosexual men often.

"No," I answered. "Have you?"

Alexander seemed as though he was trying to find an answer.

"I think so," he said slowly. "But she has moved away. And... the other one was stupid, it was a mistake. He didn't return the feelings."

"I see." I felt my cheeks heat up a little bit. "So, that means you love me, right?"

Alexander didn't answer. He kissed me instead, making me feel a bit upset for a moment. However, I melted into the kiss and found his lips intoxicating. Who needs alcohol when you have Alexander? I felt his hand move up my back and to my zipper. He pulled my dress off of my shoulders slowly and peppered my shoulders and neck with the kisses. My breath caught in my throat and I moaned a bit, curling my toes.

"John; you're handsome, wonderful, and anything in between. You're so... desirable," he mumbled.

"I'm desirable," I repeated under my breath.

"Mm," Alexander's hands traced over my figure. He found my hands and laced them together, handing them against my chest. He smiled at me with the type of smile you would smile if you were to, say, look at somebody you love.

"You desire me," I whispered quietly.

"Of course I do," he kissed my cheek. "Anybody would."

To that, I stifled a laugh, as his lips planted kisses on my body. 

“Why’re you laughing? It’s true,” he teased.

I wrapped my arms around his neck as I was pushed further into the couch, sitting up. He pulled up my skirt and kissed my thighs, one of his hands still holding mine. I felt him palming me and I let out a choked moan.

"Is this okay?" Alexander mumbled.

"Yes," I said.

"Just tell me if it gets uncomfortable," he smiled reassuringly. 

As Alexander kissed my inner thighs, I tightened my grip on his hand. He let go of my hand, however, and he tugged a little bit at my underwear.

"Alex," I mumbled quietly.

"Do you trust me, John?" he whispered.

"Yes," I say truthfully, "I trust you, I honestly do."

"Good," he leaned up and kissed my cheek. I smiled at the contact and followed his lead so that I was sitting up on the sofa and he was between my legs. My skirt draped down a bit over his head, so he pulled it up to my stomach.

Alexander pulled my underwear off slowly. I smirked at him and pet the back of his head. "Lex," I whispered, "t-tell me why you want me..." I watched his eyes widen slightly as he looked up at me from the floor. He wrapped his hands around my cock and turned red, looking down at the carpet suddenly. "It's because you're so..." he trailed off slightly, "desirable. And smart, and strong, and I just... can't help but want you. I can't help but want to be with you, t-touch you, feel your body..." He held onto my hand as he took my length in his mouth.

"Oh, God," I mumbled under my breath. He pulled away from me and looked up.

"You okay?" he whispered. I nodded a bit and he went back to what he was doing. I felt his tongue as he licked and sucked. I've never felt pleasure like this before. I felt a moan slip from my lips; I held onto Alexander's hand even tighter. His other hand was on the inside of my thigh keeping my legs spread.

"Oh, damn, Alex," I mumbled, a bit breathless. Everything was building up inside of me. A pleasure I've never felt before. “God, shit— oh, I love you and your— fuckin’ talented mouth— fuck. Goddamn, d-don't stop.”

Suddenly, everything built within me collapsed. Alexander quickly pulled off of me as I climaxed and I let go of his hand. He grabbed my boxers from the floor and wiped up my seed.

"Was that good?" he mumbled, breathily laughing. I only nodded, my head back in ecstasy. I was completely disheveled; my hair a mess, my clothes half off, my face sweaty. I was breathing heavily as Alexander rose back up from the floor. He crawled over me again and I pulled him into my arms on the sofa.

"Thank— Thank you," I whispered quietly. He kissed my cheek.

"As long as it was good for you," he mumbled under his breath. I clutched onto him tightly and sighed.

"It was great," I whispered.

"Anytime."

“Hah...” I mumbled, pulling him into my lap, “you’d suck my cock anytime?”

“Not what I meant, John,” he whispered with a small laugh, kissing my cheek. He laid his head on my shoulder.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)


	35. Tension

"Alexander," I mumbled. I laid with him in my arms still on the sofa, unmoving. My dress was still halfway off and I was still disheveled, though much calmer at this point.

"Yes?" he said.

"We should go lie down in bed," I muttered softly.

"Yes, of course," Alexander smiled and picked himself up off of the sofa. I stood and grabbed his waist, kissing him and holding him against me. Eventually, I swept him up and carried him bridal-style to the bedroom. He laughed softly and buried his face in my neck. Though I knew we would never marry, the thought was nice. He had to half-way support himself in my arms, however, because he could see that I was quite clearly struggling to carry him. I’ve gotten stronger since I’ve been here, but not strong enough apparently.

"Mm, Alex?" I whispered again as he laid down next to me on the bed. I found his hand and laced our fingers together, curling against his body.

"Yes?"

"Are you... going to leave me, now that I gave you what you wanted?" I said in the quietest of voices. The only possible people to hear would be Alexander and me, though just barely. I didn't dare look up to meet Alexander's eyes. "Not leave, just— treat me differently? Use me?"

"No! Why would you think that?" he asks in the same hushed tone. He pulled me up so I was sitting on my knees facing him on the bed. My dress sleeve slipped off of my shoulder.

"I don't... I don't know."

"John, look at me," he said. I felt a warm pit in my stomach as I followed the gentle guidance of his hand cupping my cheek, going to look up at him. I loved looking him in his handsome eyes. "I wouldn't do that to you," Alexander told me. I feel relief flood over me. He kissed me quickly.

"Thank you."

The air in the room didn't feel right. It was as if both of us were holding back on saying what was on our mind. As if this relationship was no longer enough and we needed more; it created tension that made my stomach twist in knots. I didn't open my eyes.

"John," Alexander breathed at last. I continued to hold my breath, though subconsciously.

"Yes?" I whispered. The air was still trapped in my lungs.

"Can I..." Alexander trailed off and stopped talking. He took a deep breath before saying, "Do you want to go downstairs for dinner?"

"Sure," I responded. I still couldn't breathe properly. I felt like even the deep breaths I took through my nose weren't enough, the pit in my stomach not going away.

We sat in silence for another moment on the bed before he pulled away. I slid off the bed and zipped the back of my dress. It took me a brief moment to realize that I was still not wearing underwear. I grabbed another pair from the closet quickly and stood by the bed.

"Aren't you coming downstairs?" I asked him.

"No... I have work to do. You go eat dinner, have Sally bring up mine for me,"

"Alright." I went downstairs slowly and as I walked down I felt less enclosed; at last, I was breathing properly. The feeling at my core was still there, however.

"John," Theodosia smiled, setting a bowl on the counter. "You're just in time for dinner."

"Alexander wants Sally to bring him his," I spoke, looking down at my hands.

"Of course," Sally stood up and piled some food onto a plate, "I assumed he'd ask, he always eats in his office."

"Except for when you ate with him the other day," Theodosia added, smirking a bit. "You can't tell me he doesn't favor you."

"I don't care if he favors me," I said, "I don't want other slaves to hate me for it. More than they do. Sure, Alexander and I have a relationship, but it's nobody else's business.'"

"We won't hate you," Sally said, sounding offended. Theodosia nodded as well. Martha then walked into the kitchen, sighing and sitting down on the stool next to me and putting her head in her arms.

"Dinner, Mar?" Theodosia asked. Martha groaned something that resembled a “yes” so Theodosia brought her a plate. I played with my baked potato a bit, not feeling particularly hungry. I just look down and thought about what had happened with Alexander. It brought me an unusual sadness. It felt wrong. My whole life I was told it was wrong. But I really, really love Alexander. And I really, really liked doing that with him.

"John?" Martha nudged me. I blinked and snapped out of my thoughts, looking up from my plate. "John, are you okay?"

"Yes," I said quickly, "I'm fine, it's all good. Uh, Mar, can I ask you something?" 

"Yeah."

"About Alexander. Uh, I'm worried about him. I think he might be afraid of something, but I don't know what exactly. Something involving Jefferson, I'm sure. And I feel like shit 'cause I don't know how to decipher him."

"He's... an enigma," Martha whispered distantly. "I'm sorry."

"Never mind it. It's fine. I'm fine. I'm just really... tired and kinda sick so I should be going now."

Martha shook her head and just looked down at her own food. I made a mental note to keep myself together and pay attention. I can't risk showing weakness in front of anyone. Maybe in front of Alexander, but only because he shows weakness as well. And I was only weak because I've been conditioned this way for the year I was being prosecuted and then however much time I've spent here. Alexander knew this. I could be strong again, one day. One day this would all be over. Then perhaps... Alexander and I could live a normal life. We could be happy. Unless the world implodes, everyone we know is secretly a spy, or the president bans immigration, then we should be fine.

My first thought when I got upstairs was to go to Alexander's office. I wanted to hang around with him for a while before going to bed. Even if just laid on the sofa and read, being in his presence was like a natural thing, now.

However, when I held my knuckles up to knock, I paused. My breath caught in my throat and my hand froze. I quietly stepped away after a moment and went to the bathroom in the bedroom to shower instead. As I took my clothes off of my body, I looked my myself in the mirror. More tears came and I didn't know why. I didn't have the energy to stop them. I didn't need to; nobody could see me except for myself.

Still, I hated the tears.

I got into the shower and washed. I felt a weird, broken sense. I couldn't stand myself. Out of what did I feel this pain? Alexander was kind and promised me he wasn't going to leave. I shouldn't have felt so insecure. I needed to get over it.

After my shower I dried off and grabbed my robe, wrapping it securely around my body like a hug. I went to get dressed in my nightshirt before pulling my wet hair back into a bun to keep it out of my face; therefore I could sleep without it being annoying. 

But, I paused. I pulled off the nightshirt and dig through Alexander's closet until I found a few outfits. I locked myself in the bathroom and began to try the clothes on.

They just about all fit. I looked myself in the mirror, more tears coming to my eyes at the sight of the suit. I was like me again... I forgot what I looked like. I forgot my old life and my old personality. I was like me again; strong, masculine, on top of the world. Except...

I was still different. My cheeks were hollowed and my eyes looked sunken in. There were still bruises on my face, however faded they might’ve been. I aged ten years in that one year of prison; I was tired, beaten, skinny. I took off the suit and tried a different one. And then another. I felt secure again. I felt safe.

My legs weren't exposed. I didn't look feminine at all. 

I eventually took off all of the clothes and put them away in the closet. I wore one of Alexander's shirts and looked down at my bare, freckled legs. 

I crawled into bed. It was nine at night, so Alexander should hopefully be back soon. I wanted to hug him.

It took Alexander a few hours to come into the bedroom, but when he did at last, I pretended to be asleep. I curled up against the soft plush pillow and hugged the silk duvet close to my chest as it wrapped around my frame. My eyes stayed closed, my breathing controlled and steady. Deep breaths made me sound more asleep.

Alexander changed and got into bed. First, he sat on the edge next to me. I felt his hand on my forehead then as he wiped something off of my cheek. It made me flinch, though I don't think he noticed. It took me a moment to realize what he was wiping away. I had stopped crying before he came in, but a couple of tears slipped from my eyes and stayed on my cheek lingering when I closed my eyelids.

Once his weight left my side, Alexander laid down on the other side of me, next to me. He got under the covers and carefully wrapped his arms around my waist. He laid close to me, hugging me under the covers. I didn't even flinch; not until he kissed my forehead. I heard him hiccup. "Alex?" I murmured. "Hey, hey, are you okay? Are you crying?" I asked. He shook his head, but I saw the tears. I touched his cheeks. "It's okay to cry..."

"John... I hurt you," he whimpered. "I always hurt people... people always leave... God, I'm such an idiot."

"No, you're not," I reassured him. "I'm not leaving any time soon, remember?"

He laughed bitterly and wiped his eyes. "Because you don't have a choice," he mumbled. "If you had the choice, would you leave?"

"No, not when I—"

"But before this?" Alexander asked. "Be honest with me... would you have left? After I hurt you, after I ridiculed you, after I scared you into believing I would— rape you?"

"I don't know," I said. There was silence for a while. He looked away but I cupped his cheeks. "Hey, look at me," I said. "Alexander... whatever happened before doesn't matter anymore. It's just us, okay? I know you. Maybe I don't know everything about you, but I know who you are. And you're not a bad man."

"No, don't lie to me," he snapped.

"You're being irrational. Calm down..." I paused. "Good people do bad things. I've done bad things before, too. I've hurt people and I've risked other people's lives trying to be the hero. But one day we grow up and we see that everyone we've ever known... we affected them, whether good or bad, and there's nothing we can do but move on. What you did to me? It was awful. If it had been anybody else, maybe I wouldn't have forgiven. But it's you and I can see it in you; you're not a bad person."

"John," he whimpered, clutching on to me. He was just about sobbing now. 

"I'm sorry, too. I'm sorry for pushing you and hurting you. I'm sorry for deliberately trying to set your temper off for...whatever the reason may be. For my own belief of love. Maybe it helped us in the long run, maybe it didn't. We can only move on."

"I feel so badly," he mumbled. I wiped his tears for him and smiled. 

"Don't... just... let’s put it behind us."


	36. Sophisticated

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oh so fluffy

"John?"

I looked up from the floor I was washing to see Sally standing there, eyebrows furrowed.

"Sally? What're you doing upstairs, aren't you supposed to be... I don't know, grinding wheat into flour or whatever you do?" I asked, pushing myself up from the floor and wiping my wet hands on my apron. She stifled a chuckle.

"Can I... talk to you?" she whispered.

"What about?"

"Uh," she looked behind her and closed the music room door. I tilted my head and Sally lowered her voice, "...about Mr. Hamilton,"

"Yes?" I swallowed the lump in my throat. She stepped towards me and picked up my hands. She held them loosely.

"When I brought Mr. Hamilton his dinner the other night," she smiled, a bit uncomfortable, "I-I saw some underwear on the floor by his sofa... and you were upset when you ate dinner downstairs. I just worry about you— did something happen?"

"Alex didn't force himself onto me, if that's what you're asking," I muttered, slightly angry although I didn't know why. Sally seemed a bit relieved and she pulled me close, wrapping her arms around me.

"I-I just thought... oh my God, I'm sorry," I heard her sniffle. I hugged her tightly.

"Please don't tell anybody else though, okay?" I mumbled. "I don't want you guys to be indifferent to me."

"I'm not," she whispered. Her voice wavered slightly and she laughed, pulling away and wiping her tears. Her face was bright pink and her eyes were watering. "Neither is Theodosia. Though, I won't tell her, if that's what you want."

"Thank you. But what about Martha?"

Sally laughed a bit again. "She could care less. She's in her own world most of the time... sneaking around, doing whatever.”

"Alright," I sighed. "Thank you, Sally."

"You are welcome," Sally took a deep breath and wiped all remaining in her eyes before nodding to me and leaving. She left the door open and I continued to wipe down the floors.

After a while of that, and after dusting the piano and cello, I went to Alexander's office. I was just about to knock on the door when he opened it, startling me.

"Oh, John!" he said.

"Mr. Hamilton, you frightened me," I cleared my throat.

"I was just coming to check on you. Did you finish cleaning the music room?"

"Yes."

"Good," he nodded slowly and looked me in the eyes.

"Anything else?" I hummed.

"Not right now... would you like to clean my office?"

"Of course," I stifled a laugh, smirking instead.

I followed him into his office and when the door was closed, I was almost immediately pushed up against the wall. I was laughing a lot. Alexander began to kiss my neck sloppily, making me laugh more.

"Alexander," I whispered playfully. I held onto his tie with the one hand that was free; my other hand was pinned above my head. His free hand trailed up under my dress and caressed my thigh. "Mm— okay, this is fun, but don't you have work?"

"I do," he pulled away and kissed me, "but you're so intoxicating."

"You couldn't live without me," I pushed my lips out.

"Would you be willing to bet that?" he chuckled.

"Shut up," I chuckled and leaned up, wrapping my arms around his waist, "you know it."

He just laughed in response, backing up as I kissed his neck. We fell onto the couch, him beneath me. Alexander squirmed away, sitting on my hips for a moment, then pecked my cheek and walked to his desk.

"Where are you going?" I groaned.

"Work, remember? You did remind me, didn't you? Ergo, it's your fault," he stated. I sighed and laid back on the sofa for a moment before jumping up and quietly making my way to his desk. I had to kick off my shoes to make my steps silent. I put my hands on his shoulders and leaned to his ear.

"Alexander," I whispered.

"Yes?" He didn't turn around.

"Come on, I'm bored," I urged and sat in his lap. He had to be pushed away from his work, which made him glare at me.

"Then clean something," Alexander said indifferently.

"Anything?" I smirked. Alexander rolled his eyes a bit, trying not to smile.

"You know what I mean. Read a book or go clean. Besides, I'm hosting another party tomorrow night, so you'll need to wax the ballroom floor anyhow. You and Martha both."

"Wax the ballroom floor?" I groaned and leaned back, dramatically grabbing his tie and sighing. "Alexander, can't you cancel the ball?"

"Now, why would I do that?"

"Because you are partial to me."

"I am partial to you," he sighed, sounding defeated. He kissed my forehead and I thought he had given in. But yet, "But, I have already invited everybody."

I huffed indifferently and rolled my eyes.

"Don't get an attitude," Alexander warned, shooting me a glare.

"What attitude?" I asked with attitude.

"You know what."

"No, I don't, please do tell."

"You're just trying to get me away from my work," he crossed his arms over my stomach from where I laid back in his lap, "...and it's working."

I laughed and he shot me another glare. So, I sat up in his lap and faced him, putting my hands on his shoulders.

"Go clean, John, I can't have distractions," he said finally. I got off of him.

"You're a drag," I mumbled.

"What was that?"

"I said you're a fucking drag," I stuck my tongue out. 

"I swear to God, John." He didn't even look up from his work.

"Whatever. Maybe you should stop giving me attitude, Alexander."

Alexander shook his head and put his reading glasses back on.

"Those glasses make you look older," I tell him.

"And...?"

I just blinked and shrugged before walking away. By away, I mean to the sofa where I picked up my book and began to read.

"Not an old man sort of old," I say after a while. The typewriter stops clicking. "Just more sophisticated."

"I'll keep that in mind, John."


	37. Floor Waxing

That night after my shower, I slipped into bed next to Alexander. He held my waist and kissed me for a while before we both grew tired and fell asleep. I was half laying on top of him, head on his chest. I held his hand and quietly listened to his beating heart. It made me feel grounded in reality.

• • •

Since Alexander was already awake and showering, I decided to get up and get dressed. I went downstairs to clean the ballroom floor. Martha was already grabbing supplies out of the closet. She flashed me a smile.

"Good morning," she said.

"Good morning, Alex said that I was to wax the floors with you."

"Praised be." She smiled, handing me a rag. I took it from her and we went to the ballroom to begin cleaning.

After a while of waxing, I sighed and sat back on the floor.

"How long does this usually take?" I asked her.

"Most of the day by myself," she shrugged, "but with you, I'm sure we could get it by lunch."

"Goddammit! I forgot to eat breakfast!"

"My Lord," Martha giggled. "Well, go on, get some toast, I'll survive."

"No, it's alright," I said and began to wax again. After a moment, I said, "I had a sister named Martha."

"Oh? What happened to her?"

"Nothing."

"But you said had?"

"Yes— But you and I both know that I likely won't see her again," I sighed.

"I'm so sorry," Martha looked up at me. "What was she like?"

"She was one of the nicest people I ever knew," I smiled sadly, "she was feisty and smart... terrible sense of humor and horrible at singing, but seriously amazing. I took care of my siblings when we were growing up. I'm sure that's what she's doing now. And I'm sure she's helping our father's slaves as I had... though I pray that she is more careful and doesn't make the mistake I made. She's well aware that there are some pretty bad people out here. I know that she won't let that happen to her."

"She sounds so amazing," Martha smiled at me. "I'm so sorry."

"It's okay," I waved my hand dismissively, "as long as I have the strength and the confidence to persevere, I know she will too."

Martha just smiled sadly. We both went back to waxing the floors.

By noontime, we were just about done.

"It's so shiny— and pretty," I laughed. Martha nodded, giggling. "I can't believe you do this by yourself every time he holds a party."

"Oh, I do." She winked at me and sighed, adjusting her dress and wiping her hands. "Well, we best go to lunch. Afterward, you should clean the upstairs."

"I cleaned the music room and the billiard room. Not to mention the guest rooms, you know how frisky some of these wealthy young people get. What else?"

"The Library?" she suggested.

"Not much to do, really. Can I help downstairs?"

"All I need to clean is the parlor and dust the grand hall."

"Okay," I say. "You promise?"

"Yes."

After we eat lunch I went upstairs, bringing a plate for Alexander. He sighed when he opened his office door and welcomed me in with his food, which I set down on the coffee table by his sofa. He sat beside me.

"Are you done with the ballroom?" he asked, sitting picking up his plate.

"Yes."

Alexander smirked and leaned forward, kissing my temple carefully before pulling away just barely and muttering, "Perfect.”

I laughed and he grabbed my hand. He held it tightly as I leaned on his shoulder.

"I know I asked before, but why do you host so many parties?" I whispered.

"Social status," he said simply.

I shook my head and shifted, laying down on the sofa so that I was laying in his lap, my head resting on his thigh. After a while, Alexander began to play with my hair.

• • •

When I woke up, Alexander had his hand resting on my head, tangled in the curls, and his free hand was holding a book limply as his eyes were closed and his head was tilted back. Slowly, I opened my eyes and faced him.

"Alexander," I smiled. God, saying his name just felt so amazing.

"Hm?" He awoke suddenly, putting the book aside, "how was your nap?"

“I could ask you the same question,” I teased, “It was fine, thank you."

I pushed myself up and moved into his arms. Alexander hugged my waist and laid his head on my shoulder.

"I love you," I mumbled under my breath.


	38. Escort

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jefferson is the worst

"So the party tonight—"

"Yes, yes, Alexander," I sighed, "I won't be a klutz again."

"Yes, because you do remember what happened last time," he said.

"I wouldn't forget. Jefferson is going to be here tonight?"

"He's always here," Alexander groaned. "The day that Thomas misses a chance to bury me is the day he's in the grave, whilst the party is I, rejoicing over his burial.”

"That's dark," I raised an eyebrow.

"But do you blame me?"

"No. I would party as well."

Alexander sighed and picked up my hands. He kissed them and smiled at me for a moment before turning serious again.

"You promise to be careful?" he asked. "Of course I can protect you but, still, you need to be on your best behavior.”

“My best behavior,” I repeated in a mocking tone.

“John.”

"Yes, I promise, don’t talk to me like I’m a dog."

"Fine," he kissed my cheek before pulling away. I smiled and nodded.

Around dinner time, people began to show up. Alexander stayed in his office until an hour later before greeting guests. Rich people: I will never understand them. Even though I once was one myself.

I immediately found Peggy, who was sitting by herself on a sofa in the parlor, drinking wine. When I began to walk by she quickly grabbed my wrist and urged me to come with her.

"Miss," I cleared my throat, "I am not to be sitting on the sofas right now.”

"Oh, to hell with law!" She giggled. "Please, won't you sit?"

Reluctantly, I sat down next to her. She wearing a light yellow dress that went to her knees; as well as white heels and a white bow in her hair. A similar white bow was around her waist. She had pearls around her neck and in her ears.

"John, right?" She smiled. There weren't many people in the parlor, just women mingling. They were much quieter than the men, their laughs heartier, and their gossip at a whisper.

"Yes," I nod, "Peggy Schuyler—?"

"Mhm," she hummed, "I'm sorry; I do believe that I was drunk last time we spoke?"

"Yes, but it's quite alright, Miss."

"You're involved with Alexander, hm?"

I bit down on my lip. "Pardon me?"

"I need to tell you something. Something important, listen carefully," she whispered. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Jefferson opening the door of the parlor. Immediately I hopped up.

"More wine, Miss?" I said a bit too loudly to Peggy. She looked behind her to see Jefferson walking closer.

"Please," she cleared her throat. I nodded and grabbed the bottle from the coffee table and began to top off her glass. My hands were trembling. If even a drop were to spill over—

"John," Jefferson said to me. I felt his figure next to me. Quickly, I finished pouring the wine and tipped the bottle back up.

"Mr. Jefferson, Sir," I grumbled, keeping my eyes down.

"Come with me."

"Where to, Sir?"

"Don't ask questions." He grabbed my wrist. "Escort me to the bedroom."

My face flushed as I squirmed. "Sir, my master wouldn't like that," I said quickly. He pulled again on my wrist and Peggy jumped up, trying to grab our hands away from each other.

"Sit down, woman," Jefferson spat at her. "You may have your little suffrage now, but that doesn't mean you're worth anything more than before."

"Mr. Jefferson," her face went red, "I do hope you take that back,"

"Scat. This is none of your business. And before you say; I don't care who your father is, I'm still more wealthy than he will ever be."

"Damn you, Jefferson!" she hissed at him.

"Shut the hell up," he said to her, yanking me so that I was pulled towards him. My chest slammed into his body and I cursed.

"Get off of me," I growled, pushing away. He only held on tighter.

"You are going to escort me to the bedroom one way or another," he hissed under his breath to me. I looked him in the eyes and glared.

"You're not my master," I said.

"Don't make me punish you," he whispered.

"You're drunk, get off of me," I hissed. His nails dug into my arms and I yelped, still trying to pull away.

Peggy opened her mouth to say something. I knew she couldn't; Jefferson was one of the most powerful people in the state, if not in the government. She's a mere woman. To me, it didn't matter of course, but to everybody else it did. Women had only gotten suffrage not long ago and even then, many women didn't vote out of fear of their husband's anger.

Jefferson began to pull me out of the room. I looked back as we walked to see Peggy trying to push through people but in the opposite direction. I opened my mouth, wishing to call to the people for help, but I felt alone. I couldn't find a familiar face to reach for.

Suddenly, we were away from people. We were in a guest bedroom and Jefferson shoved me to the floor. He locked the door and looked me up and down. "Get up," he commanded.

"No, Mr. Hamilton will be furious," I growled, slowly standing up.

"He won't mind." Jefferson sounded amused. "There's plenty of whores like you. I'm sure he didn't pay much for you; surely you're not a working slave. So skinny, a feminine man whore.”

"I am not feminine. And he will mind," I insisted.

"How do you know he didn't say I could have you? Just for this evening?"

"He wouldn't," I swallowed hard. "Mr. Hamilton wouldn't do that.”

He just chuckled.

"You sure about that?"

"Yes!" I snapped. Jefferson grabbed my wrist and pulled me toward him. I smelled the alcohol on his breath. "Don't you dare touch me!"

"You can't do anything about it," he murmured, close to my ear. I balled up my fists.

"I belong to Mr. Hamilton," I growled. "You have no control over me, by law."

"Oh, I see," Jefferson mused, pushing me onto the bed. "Hamilton got inside your head, did he? He raped you enough times to where you believe he loves you? Do you believe that he really feels bad, John?"

"Stop," I growled. He got on top of me and smirked.

"Come on— how many times have you heard about slaves being raped, huh? John Laurens, son of Henry Laurens... I'm sure you know what really happens inside an estate," he paused and licked his lips. "You spent your whole life trying to help these criminals escape slavery and yet you, well... you're in their place now. You think you love your master because every time he raped you, he apologized, yes? He broke down into tears and said he was sorry for hurting you and that he'll never do it again. And then the next time it happens, you can't stop it and all you can do is obey. Am I right, slave?"

"No," I spat angrily, "you're wrong."

"Oh you poor, poor man," Jefferson stroked my cheek. "So naïve... do you actually believe he's sorry? You actually believe that he cares about you? When you cry because he beats you, what goes through your mind?"

"I-I," I stuttered and closed my eyes. "I just want him to stop..."

"And he doesn't, does he?" Jefferson asked. He continued to touch my cheek. "And what happens then, hm?"

"He... he apologizes," I admitted. "And he cries."

"Classic Alexander. But is he truly sorry?" His face twisted as if he were genuine. "When does it stop, John? When will he stop hurting you, making you feel bad?"

"N-no," I whispered. "You're wrong..."

"It's never stopping, John. Hamilton is mentally ill. He belongs in an asylum. I could treat you like a man. Come to my estate and I'll fix you some man's clothes, I'll treat you better than he ever could," Jefferson leaned down to my ear. His hand moved over my body and began up my skirt. I slapped it away.

"No," I said adamantly, shoving him away. "You can't touch me."

"And what are you going to do about it, John? Fight back? Did that ever work for Alexander?"

He leaned down again but I kicked him in the stomach, shoving him away. He got up and growled.

"Wrong— answer—"


	39. Peggy The Kickass Suffragette

“He wouldn’t do that!” I yelled, tearing myself away and backing against the corner of the room. If I hit Jefferson, maybe kill him, then I’d be safe. But not for long. People would find out and they’d hang me. Punish Alexander’s career.

“You wouldn’t know, he only lies to you,” Jefferson growled, grabbing me by the collar. I let out a shout. “Alexander Hamilton is a little bitch and the only way he can make himself feel better is by stomping on other people! Do you know why he puts you in that dress?! Because he hates himself for being a fucking sodomite! He wants you to be a goddamned woman so he can fuck you and pretend like it’s just another bitch from the streets of that creole island he came from!”

“No! Don’t, you’re a damned liar!” I shouted, begging a bit. I was hoping my voice was loud enough, maybe somebody would hear. He pushed me on to the floor and I scratched at his face, making him wince. I kicked him and got up, being shoved onto the bed anyway. 

“You know, all I wanted was for you to blow me,” he growled, unfastening his belt, “but I think I might just take more than that, since you’re being so insubordinate.”

“Don’t!” I begged as he got onto the bed and began to unzip my dress. I kicked and writhed. “Please, please, don’t! Mr. Hamilton will be angry!”

“Shut up!” he shouted, slapping me across the face. He grabbed my chin. “Do you really believe that that abusive, horrible man cares about you?! He’s just as bad as me, John, and your fantasy in your head is all a load of bullshit that he made up so he could keep fucking you.”

“That’s a lie,” I whispered, shaking my head and gritting my teeth. He hit me again, fist closed. I gasped out, “That’s a fucking lie!”

“You’re brainwashed,” he growled. There was a knock on the door and my eyes widened, my mouth opening to call out for help when Jefferson slapped his hand over my mouth. I screamed against it, muffled.

“Thomas, I know you’re in there,” more knocking. It was Alexander. I bit Jefferson’s hand and began to call out his name, sucking in a breath of air and trying to sit up, when he replaced his hand. The rest was muffled as I let out a small cry.

"Thomas!" Alexander shouted, banging on the door. I flinched, continuing to squirm. 

“You fucking shut your mouth,” Jefferson commanded quietly to me. “One word, and I’ll have you shipped off to my estate in Virginia.”

I whimpered and kept my mouth shut as he removed his hand, refastening his belt and getting off the bed. I heard a body being slammed against the door as Alexander shouted again, this time yelling my name. I cried softly into my hands, trembling. After a moment the door clicked and Alexander burst in, immediately going for Jefferson. Peggy was behind him. Her eyes widened and she ran to me as Alexander began yelling at Thomas. 

“He hurt you?” Peggy whispered to me, zipping up the back of my dress and wrapping her arms around me. She rubbed my back and looked me in the eyes, he free hand taking mine and holding it tightly. I shook my head. “How so? Did he touch you at all?”

“No, he hit me and shoved me,” I whispered against her, hugging her tightly, “and tried to undress me. H-he kept saying that Alex was going to hurt me and that he doesn’t love me and only uses me for sex. But I-I’m fine, it was all a... a lie.”

“Don’t believe him.”

“I don’t,” I whispered, voice hoarse. I repeated it softly, “...I don’t.” As if I had to convince myself.

She helped me off of the bed and I leaned against her, being taller. She tried to coax me out of the room.

"You were just trying to have sex with my slave!" Alexander screamed, pointing at me.

"I just wanted a blow job from your whore! Jesus Christ!"

"Stop defending it! You tried to rape him!"

"Rape?! The what the hell have you been doing, Hamilton? Haven't you been doing the same thing!?"

I looked away, Peggy holding my hand tighter.

"Y-Yes," he gritted his teeth, "but he's my slave. Get that, Thomas? I don't know why you think I'll share him just because you threaten to expose me! I could just as easily expose you for Sally!"

"Shut the hell up!"

"John is my slave, Thomas! I bought him with my money! I will have sex with him when I want! You don't get that, you know why? Because we're done! We're over, you asshole, you sadistic prick! We’ve been done! No more abusing Sally, no more abusing me, and you sure as hell won’t lay a finger on John or so help me, God! He's my slave, not yours, and he never will be! I won't allow you to do to him as you have done to me!" Alexander screamed. His face was red and he was panting. Jefferson stepped back and scowled at him.

"I'll make you sorry, Hamilton. I'll make you sorry."

He grabbed his coat and stopped by me, grabbing my bicep and squeezing tightly. For a moment I panicked, but just looked him in the eyes.

“Don’t forget what I told you, John.” The alcohol floated with his heavy breath, close to my face. 

“Get the fuck away from me,” I growled. He turned away and began to walk out of the room. 

“Hey, try hitting him next time he asks you to fuck him! The little bitch loves it.”

With that, he left. Alexander stayed glued in his place for a moment while I stifled the anger, swallowing back fear. “What the fuck did he say to you?” Alexander whispered angrily. “Nothing.” I didn’t want to make him sad. “‘Don’t forget what I said to you’? That sound like he said something, you— you liar.” He was breathing heavily. I walked slowly towards Alexander and reached out for him but he quickly turned away, leaving the room as well. Peggy rubbed my shoulder and I mumbled "Alexander...?" so quietly. Peggy quickly coaxed me back to Alexander’s bedroom. I heard the door to his office slam, making me flinch.

Peggy stayed in the bedroom while I showered. She hugged me afterward and we sat on the bed together— is it right to say that it is my bed as well?— while she held my hand and told me it'd be okay.

"I know about you and Alex," she whispered. "And don't worry, I won't tell anybody. Alex is like my best friend... my brother... and I honestly had to say that I would be disappointed if this wasn't a usual occurrence."

"Usual occurrence?" I mumbled. "What is the...?"

She sighed. "He doesn't like feelings... I promise he cares, though.”

“I don’t fucking like feelings, either. And here I am, goddammit, and I’m trying! Is he— mad at me?" I sputtered quietly, angrily. Peggy quickly held my hand more tightly.

"God, no, John. He's not mad. He's closed off because he's disgusted with himself and for a good reason, too."

"Why would he be disgusted? He didn't do anything, did he? It's not like he told Jefferson he could have my body, right?" I stumbled over that last bit.

"No, he didn't. You saw his reaction— He would never do that."

I sighed a bit.

"John, I was trying to warn you earlier," she mumbled.

"About what?"

"My sister," she sighed quietly. "Alexander and her, they had a... courtship. She's in London with our other sister, but I must warn you; she may be coming back. I'm not sure when or why or what may happen. Just promise me one thing, John."

"What is it?"

"Promise that you won't get in the way. You can be sentenced to death, or worse. Do you promise?"

"What do you mean?" I whispered. “Will she be getting back with him?”

"Doubt it. Promise me, John," she hissed. “It’s for your safety.”

"O-Okay. I promise,"


	40. Trust

Peggy had to leave eventually. People left the party. I stayed in the bedroom for the rest of the night, Alexander being unseen after he retreated to his office. I just sat on the bed, watching the hours on the large clock tick by slowly as the pendulum moved from one side to the other. I was sitting for so long, lost deep in thought staring, that it went from ten PM to one AM in a flash.

The bedroom was still empty. I pushed myself off of the bed, my legs asleep from how I was sitting. To the ticking of the grandfather clock, I shuffled quietly to the door. As silently as possible I make my way Alexander's office, my socks quiet on the wood floor of the hall. I put my ear to his door.

I heard the clicking of keys furiously, every few moments the ding and sliding of the typewriter as a new line was made. I couldn't sleep without him but after what happened earlier this evening, facing him was more terrifying. I could just wait for him to come to bed.

So I snuck my way back. I closed the door and sat on the bed before laying down and trying to get to sleep. Still, I just couldn't. I felt so lonely without him. I had gotten so used to sleeping with him next to me every night that it was wrong not to. Especially after what happened with Jefferson. I just wanted Alexander's comfort and he hadn't said a word to me; he had turned away and locked himself in his office. Especially after what Jefferson said. I needed Alexander to reassure me it wasn’t true.

And why was Peggy acting like it was somehow Alexander's fault? I understand he's emotionally closed off, but the way she talked insinuated that there was more to it. Did I want to know?

Maybe what Jefferson said was true; I was only a toy to Alexander and he was passing me on to Jefferson.

But it didn't make sense.

He asked Alexander to hit me next time I ‘ask him’ to fuck me. But he was making eye-contact with me when he said it. The whole time, he was saying horrible things to get me to hate Alexander. ‘He only wants you for your body’ or ‘he’s a little bitch’ and whatnot. I was more afraid of that than anything else he could’ve done to me. It made me angry.

I hugged the blankets against my body. I couldn't cry anymore. It seemed as though I've wanted to cry a lot lately, yet the tears wouldn't come to satisfaction. I'd cry pitiably and quietly or I wouldn't cry at all. I was numb to the pain. I craved some sort of emotional release as I kicked the wall, punched the pillows, screaming into my arms. But it never came.

Eventually, I fell asleep. It was a light sleep, so that when Alexander came into the bedroom, I woke up. I immediately sat up, relieved to see him.

I closed my eyes and put a hand over my heart. Neither of us said a word. He walked to the bed and sat down next to me. I tried to see his face in the dark bedroom. Neither of us wanted to turn on a light, either, because that would mean breaking the peace of the dark room. It was as if the darkness brought us closer.

I finally swallowed my fear and spoke quietly. "Alexander," I began slowly. I didn't know what else to say so I just found his hands and laced our fingers. I leaned forward, the both of us slowly lowering back onto the bed as I laid my head on his chest.

"It's late, John, why are you still awake?" he mumbled.

"I couldn't sleep properly," I admitted.

"John, would you do me the favor of telling me, as immaculately as possible, what happened?”

I exhaled shakily, my hand trembling in his. He held it a bit more tightly and I swallowed the lump in my throat. I began to tell him everything— about how he insulted Peggy, how he dragged me to the guest room, how I told him “no” over and over again. 

I left out the part when Jefferson said those awful things to me. He was just trying to mess with my head. Alexander didn’t need to know that.

"What about when I knocked? Why didn't you say anything?"

"I had tried to call out for you but he had covered my mouth," I pleaded, as if I were begging him to believe me, "I tried, I promise, but I was so scared... I just... he fastened his belt again and I cowered on the bed. He said he'd hurt me more if I called out to you, and I didn't want to ruin your reputation and I—"

"Calm down, John," he whispered. I stopped my talking, covering my mouth. I felt like crying yet I couldn't. I just stammered as my eyes watered.

"Don't be mad, I didn't do anything wrong," I whispered. “You can’t be mad at me.”

"John, no, I'm not mad," he put his hands on my legs, "it wasn't your fault."

"I— I don't know," I had made my way into his lap. I continued to repeat apologies under my breath, hugging him. “How’d you get in the room...? He locked the door.”

Alexander sighed and half-smiled. “Peggy picked the lock.”

“She’s a kickass suffragette,” I joked softly, nuzzling against him. “I love you.”

Alexander froze, his arms around me stiffening. “John, can I tell you something?” he whispered. I nodded. He left out a long breath. “When Peggy and I were outside the door, I uh... hesitated. I d-didn’t know why or what I was trying to accomplish by doing so. I felt frozen. Everything was happening at once. Jefferson could ruin my career, but you were getting hurt and I hated the sounds. I heard you crying and begging and I— Peggy had to knock sense into me. I-It’s not that I didn’t want to help you or that I would ever choose my career over you, it’s just that I didn’t know what to do and I felt... weak. Useless. I was about to unravel right then if not for Peggy.”

“Alex,” I blinked, pulling away and looking at him. I pulled out of his embrace and moved away. “Oh, my God.”

“I-I’m so sorry,” he whimpered, “John, I’m so ashamed. I never wanted to let you get hurt and I’m a coward,” Alexander took my hands, pulling me close and burying his face in my chest, “I’m such a fucking coward.”

“Alexander...” I felt like I was suffocating. The things Jefferson said were returning, clouding my mind. I wrapped my arms around Alexander as I breathed slowly. “I can’t believe you. But I forgive you. I know you wanted to help but I’m angry.”

“I’m angry, too. I’m so angry at myself and at Jefferson and whatever he said to you— I know he said something.”

“I’m sorry.”

“No, John— don’t be sorry. You have to tell me.”

“No, I’m sorry,” I insisted, “I shouldn’t have let Jefferson get me alone. You told me not to let that happen and yet it did. I could have just fought against him more. It’s my fault.”

"Hush," he commanded, brushing my hair with his fingers, "It’s not your fault."

"But, he said you'd be sorry, he made it sound like he was going to do something or another..."

"Thomas won't do anything.” Alexander kissed me. I held onto his chest and pulled my body against his. This is my Alexander. This is who he really is. “It’s late. Do you want to go to bed, now?"

"Yes."

Alexander got into his robe and sweatpants before crawling into bed next to me. He held me close to his body and suddenly I was okay again. For now, anyway. I rested my chin against his forehead, inhaling the scent of his hair. I kept my arms around him.

"Do you trust me?" Alexander mumbled.

"...Yes."

There was a long pause. My words hung in the air before Alexander just whispered, ever so quietly, "I trust you, too."


	41. Masquerade

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alex sounds too sexual; Masquerading

I woke up laying in Alexander’s arms. His breath was warm on my shoulder; I hugged him tighter against my body and curled my legs to my chest. I felt him shift a bit as he stirred awake.

"John," Alexander groaned quietly, "What time is it?"

I hummed and strained my eyes to look at the clock. "Noon." 

"Already?" He whispered. I began to sit up but he pulled me back down onto the bed, putting his arms around my chest. "Not yet."

"Martha and the girls will be wondering where I am," I whispered. 

"To hell with it.”

"But—"

"No buts. Just... stay here with me a bit longer. I miss you.”

I sighed and nodded, curling against his body once more. His breathing was deep and heavy, his heartbeat against my chest. I felt it just barely, the short pulses that regulates his warm breaths that tickled my neck. His hands were warm in mine from where they were folded over my chest. I suddenly realized how tangible this all was.

After a moment, I shifted and wrapped my arms around him. I felt more secure when it was I who was comforting him.

"You didn’t mean it, did you?" I suddenly whispered.

"Mean what?" he mumbled. I stayed unmoving.

"About me being your whore," I swallowed.

"Oh, John," he breathed, rolling me over so that I faced him. Alexander brushed the hair out of my eyes and put a hand on my cheek. "You know I had to say that."

"I know. It's just that sometimes..." I trailed off.

"Sometimes what?"

"Sometimes, Alex, we say things that we have to say but then deep down we know they really are true. We use the fact that it is something that we have to say to cover it up. Because... the truth is something too difficult to face."

"John," Alexander whispered. "Hey, look at me."

I looked up at him. 

"I'll make it up to you tonight."

"What do you mean by that?"

Alexander chuckled a little bit and shook his head. "I have a surprise in store for you. I promise, we'll have fun."

"Fun," I repeated slowly. "What sort of...?"

"Don't you worry about it," he dismissed me and kissed sweetly on the lips. "Now, we should get dressed and have brunch.”

"Yes, we should..." I trailed off and cleared my throat. “After you tell me what the ‘fun’ is.” “John—” before he could get out another word, I kissed him again passionately. I grabbed his wrist and pushed myself on top of him, pulling away with a smirk. “We have to get dressed,” he whined. “Not until you tell me.” “John.” “Alex,” I smirked and kissed him on the cheek. He let out a short giggle and quickly turned his face away, curling his legs in though I had him pinned, still. “John, stop torturing me,” he whimpered and bit his lip. I felt his triceps as he flexed, trying to squirm away. “John, I’m serious. Let me up.” I let go of his wrists and he sat up against me, arms back as he tried to lean away as far as possible. I leaned forward to kiss him but he turned his head away. So, I slowly got off of him. “Alex? Are you okay?” I asked as we both got dressed. “Yes, sorry, I’m just hungry.” “...Okay.” All day, I tried to imagine what Alexander meant by, "making it up to me".

It was around five o'clock when he called for me to come upstairs. I looked over at Martha, who raised an eyebrow. She shook her head and I went to meet him upstairs.

"So, um..." I sighed and laughed awkwardly. 

"Put this on," he handed me a black suit. I looked at it, puzzled. "I hope it fits.”

So I went around the corner and changed into it. The pants were just a little short though it wasn't drastic. I came back out and he smiled.

"You look great," Alexander said, straightening my white tie. He handed me a mask.

"What's this for?"

"I'm taking you out tonight," he smiled, "masquerade ball; nobody will recognize either of us."

"And if they recognize you?"

"Do you speak any foreign languages?" he asked. I laughed a little bit.

"Greek, Latin—"

"Um, any languages that aren't dead?" he teased. I rolled my eyes.

"If you'll let me finish, for God's sake."

"Fine, fine."

"German," I said. "And French, Spanish, and Italian."

"Damn— Perfect, let's go with German. You will be Johann, my distant cousin who is from Austria, visiting for the weekend," he told me. 

"Very well," I laughed. Alexander put the mask on my face; it was black and white like my suit with gold designs that swirled around the eyes. It covered only my upper face, naturally. His mask was like mine but instead was completely gold with black detail.

Alexander led me outside with him to a running automobile that was waiting for us. We sat in the back seat, a man driving. We had been stopped outside of a mansion, an older man leaning into the window of the back seat.

"Who are you?"

"Alexander Hamilton," Alexander cleared his throat, taking off his mask. 

"And you?"

"He doesn't speak English well," Alexander cut in, "he's my distant cousin from Austria."

"I see," the man leaned out of the window and waved us on. I sighed in relief, not having to take off my mask. We continued driving, circling to the entrance of the mansion. Alexander and I got out of the car. Inside the mansion was a ballroom much like Alexander's. I followed him into another room where people were sitting at a bar; we both went to sit and order drinks.

"Wine bitte," I said. 

"What was that?" The bartender asked.

"He asked for wine," Alexander said. I tried not to laugh. We sat and drank our wine on the barstools. "So," he whispered to me, "how is it?"

"Es bringt Erinnerungen zurück," I laughed. 

"A language I can speak, please."

"It brings back memories," I repeated, though quieter this time. 

"Good or bad?"

"Bit of both, I suppose?"

"Wow," he chuckled. I scanned the room as I sipped my wine; it felt nice to see all of these rich people and to feel like one of them again. Still, it didn't make me happy. Just relieved. 

Women wore fancy gowns and dresses, men wore suits. Everyone was wearing masks of some sort, covering their faces. I saw a girl with a dark braid and I paused, taking another moment to study her eyes beyond her purple mask. I swallowed and turned back to Alexander. I saw his eyes through his mask and felt safe again. Her dress looked much like Peggy’s, although purple. She had a black bow tying her braid and one around her waist, and black heels. The same idea with the pearls. She was like the cold, midnight contrast of Peggy.

"Are you alright?" Alexander mumbled to me.

"Yes." I nodded. "I'm fine."

He just nodded slowly in response.

"Would you like to go dance now?"

"We cannot dance with each other," I pointed out. "At least not a waltz."

"No, we cannot, but the dance is still the dance," he insisted. "Come on, now."

I hummed and followed him into the ballroom. By now, the purple-masked girl was out of sight. It made me nervous. Her eyes had been familiar and her aura audacious.

Alexander paired off with some woman and I was left to the sidelines. That was, until a woman came by and grabbed my hand. 

"Care for a dance?" she whispered to me; her voice. I looked at her purple dress that stopped several inches below her knees. I bit my lip and nodded, following her onto the dance floor.

We waltzed to the music. After a moment of spinning, it hit me.

"Patsy?"


	42. Patsy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John’s shifty little sister; Blowjobs; Betting on pool; politics

"Hush," she hissed as we spun around. "Yes."

"Oh my God, What are you doing here, in New York City? I thought I'd never see you again," I whispered. My sister; my best friend who I grew up with. 

"I can't say," she mumbled, "is there somewhere private we can talk?"

"Sure, I'll tell Alexander that I'm going to the restroom.”

"Your owner?" She raised an eyebrow. I nodded reluctantly. We walked semi-separately out of the ballroom. I followed her into a room that was secluded completely.

"I missed you so much," I breathed at last, "I thought I'd never see you again."

"You said that already," she sighed and took off her mask, "I missed you too."

Patsy hugged me tightly and I didn't want to let go. After so long of relying on Alexander for love, I forgot what the love of my sibling was like.

"Is Hamilton okay?" She asked quietly, sadly.

"H-He's better than okay, Patsy. He loves me."

"Did he— did he say that to you?" she whispered.

"No. But I know it. And he will someday soon, I know, because he really does love me. Why do you think he snuck me out of the house?" I laughed quietly.

"Are you crazy? What'd he do to you, did he mess up your head?"

"No, no. I'm not crazy."

"So there has been no trouble whatsoever with him?" she asked.

"No," I lied. "Well, okay, just a little bit, but everything is okay now. I'm his maid and things are going pretty good..."

"Maid," she repeated, amused. "What happened after St. James?"

"Prison only lasted a year... then I was shipped off and bought by Alexander. It was sort of off at first, y'know, but things got better. Still way better than St. James. He bought me at the auction; every month I was in the auction but was never bought. They said I was too weak. Too expensive. The auctioneer talked me down like it was his goal to make sure I wasn’t sold. They tried to make me do labor to get stronger but I evaded it. I even starved myself... anything to avoid being bought."

"Did you ever get caught?"

"Yes," I laughed half-heartedly, "several times. I was thrown into an isolation chamber a few times. They never hit me too hard because then I'd be completely non-sellable. Then they told me I had a month to live before they were to hang me. If I was bought at the auction the day before, I wouldn't. Honestly, I told myself I would rather die than be bought."

"You almost died?" she hissed, "John, you absolute idiot.”

I chuckled a bit, "He bought me, though— Alexander. I rode in the backseat of his car with him to his house. I was afraid and angry and I didn't want to be there. Still..."

"Still, what?" she inquired.

"Still, I fell in love with him. I sleep in his bedroom and you know... it's wonderful with him." 

"As wonderful a life that a slave can live?" she asked.

I swallowed. "What do you mean?"

"You're still a slave. Whether the love is genuine or not, he still hasn't freed you."

"It's illegal. He could lose his seat in Congress if he frees me," I said. "Can you imagine that? I don't want to be the reason that he loses power and money."

Patsy shook her head and smiled. "I just... missed you so much, Jacky."

"Missed you too," I hugged her again. "Okay, we should part. I don't want him to grow suspicious."

"Would he be upset that you were talking to your sister?" Patsy asked. I shook my head but realized I was unsure. I couldn't see any reason he would be angry, but things were just recovering. I didn't want to bring my sister into this.

We parted ways and I began to walk back to the ballroom. I was stopped by a shorter man in a mask.

"Evening," he said. He had a white suit. 

"Guten Abend," I replied in German. 

"German," he said. "I saw you with Secretary Hamilton. Who are you?"

"C-cousin," I stammered in a heavy German accent. "My English is... not good.”

"I see," his hand was still on my arm.

"Ich sollte jetzt gehen..." I mumbled. "Excuse sie.”

"What was that?" 

"Excuse me," I cleared my throat, still having a German accent.

"Very well. Evening, Herr...?"

"Johann," I replied. "Johann Rilow."

"Evening, Herr Rilow."

I nodded and went on my way. I ran into Alexander, who was walking in the opposite direction.

"John," he said. "Where'd you run off to?"

"Just the restroom," I answered. I felt bad lying to him. 

"Oh, alright," he nodded slowly, beginning to walk back in the direction of which I came. I followed hesitantly. 

"Alexander?" I whispered, turning a corner and following him into a bathroom. Nobody else was around. He stood there for a moment, looking at me, and locked the door. I raised an eyebrow as he took off my mask and pressed his lips to mine gently.

Oh, damn. 

I tugged at his mask and grabbed his hand, flipping and pushing him against the wall. My lips remained on his as he sucked on my tongue gently.

"Ah— shit." I broke away the kiss, desperately pressing my forehead to his and closing my eyes, panting. He put his hand on my waist and pulled our lower halves together, making me groan a bit at the friction as he tried to kiss my neck. "This— is— a really b-bad place for this," I stuttered and grabbed his tie, pulling his head up so I could kiss him properly. Alexander groaned a bit softly as I got down on my knees, beginning to work at his pants.

"Shit— John," he mumbled, closing his eyes and still panting.

"Are we— doing this?" he breathed lightly, pushing his back against the bathroom wall to stabilize himself. He groped onto my hair and I yelped, glaring up at him as I began to tug at his underwear.

"I can make it quick," I chuckled, smiling at him from the floor. I kiss his stomach and trailed down to his member, wrapping my hands around it and still making eye contact with Alexander. "You said we'd have fun tonight, right?"

"Shit," he just muttered, tilting his head back as I began to suck on his tip. "Goddamn, John— mn, God."

"Shh," I pulled away and tried not to be cocky, though I couldn't seem to help it. Just having Alexander under my control, like putty under my touch, it was amazing. "I'll have to stop if you're too loud, you know. If people were to find out..."

"Shit, shit, I know, j-just get on with it," he begged softly, grabbing my head. I resisted.

"What, are you begging, now?" I smirked. "You want this badly, don't you?"

"Yes, John, just—" he stopped his breath short, putting his hand to his mouth as I rubbed my thumb over his slit. 

"I think," I paused, licking up a long strip from his base, "that you want people to hear." 

"John..."

"Maybe you just don't care, as long as you get this, right?" I teased, my hands moving up the innards of his thighs and stopping to cup him gently, teasingly. "If it were legal, you'd shout it from the rooftops," I stopped again. "Right, Alexander? Would you?"

"Yes— I would."

"Then tell me what you'd say," I moved my hands a bit more slowly, still flicking my tongue around. "Come on, Alex."

"Ah—" he tried to stifle the moan as he closed his eyes tight, holding onto my shoulders with a death grip. "John— John Laurens."

I put my mouth around his member and sucked gently, making Alexander yelp.

"John... shit, I-I'd say your name a million time—s, J-John, John, John L-Laurens," he swallowed and moaned a bit. I stood back up, hands still around his length as I pressed my lips to his neck.

"Would you shout it— tell everybody that you let me fondle you, Alexander?" 

"Yes—" he stopped short, groping my back and holding me tightly as I kissed him desperately and moved my hands up and down his member. "God, John— yes!"

I took one hand away and covered his mouth with it, hushed him gently and mumbling incoherent words against his neck, jaw, and into his ear. He moaned against my hand and reached around to the bathroom counter, blindly finding a white hand towel and holding it up just in time as he moaned, sounding relieved as he leaned against me.

"Just like that," I whispered, kissing him on the mouth carefully. "So perfect."

"Goddamn, John," he huffed quietly, hugging onto me. "Fuck— s-shit,"

"What?"

"I was going to the billiard room for a game of pool with a colleague of mine,"

"Then let's go," I mumbled, tossing the hand towel aside and under the cabinet. "Such poor etiquette, but it's worth it, right?"

"Right," Alexander mumbled, fastening his belt. I chuckled and kissed his cheek, following him out of the bathroom. Luckily for us, nobody was nearby still.

I followed him to the billiard room and nearby, drinking some wine whilst the two men played pool. It was the man in the white suit from earlier.

"I heard from Aaron Burr that you'd gotten a new slave?" The masked man asked. “That man, the slave sympathizer, John Laurens, right?”

"Yes, why'd that come up in conversation?" Alexander replied.

"We were discussing Thomas and how he had been to a party of yours, only to be thrown out."

"He had been using my property," Alexander said. He barely glanced over to me and I swallowed the lump in my throat. "I didn't kick him out, though; I told him respectfully to leave. You don't walk into another man's house and use his property."

"Thomas said he had permission."

Alexander snorted and closed his eyes. "Never in a million years. I paid good money for that slave. For months, he'd been harassing my slaves. You know what he did with his sister in-law,"

"We agreed to never speak of that," the man growled.

"Unless he were to try to ruin my life with his petty rumors,"

"No. You and I both signed that agreement. No exploiting Hemings," the man said. "Scratch."

"I see that," Alexander said, picking up the white ball from a pocket and setting it on the table again, "I'm not an idiot. Still, Thomas knows that I will not hesitate if I have to. He's been on thin ice lately anyhow; running amuck my mansion, relentlessly beating my slaves. Nobody— and I mean nobody,—is as cruel as him. Not you, not Dolly, not Washington. His thinking that he may come into my home and wreak havoc is not acceptable whatsoever."

"Are you sure this has nothing to do with whatever happened last spring?" The man asked.

"No, it doesn't. I wouldn't change my mind. I am not a negatively biassed man. Partiality, perhaps, plays a role in my life," Alexander paused, "I have two more. You're about to lose a dime."

The man scoffed. "You're lucky if you can get that money ball. I'm not losing a grand. And between you and Thomas—"

"There's nothing between us."

"Why do you invite him over monthly then, hm?" The man asked. I took a sip of wine from the sofa as balls on the table clattered.

"Oh— damn you! One more to the pocket, we'll both be competing for the 8 Ball," he groaned, "to be fair, Thomas invited himself over. He rarely gives me a heads-up in advance. And, I have him over to maintain appearance. Had we tried to remain friends, it would be a definitive fail. 'Colleagues' was less of a strive. He wants to be sure I'm not sympathizing with slaves."

"Wouldn't be surprised," he said, "you did use to be an asshole abolitionist. Although it would be surprising that you put your title on the line for some lowlife."

"I'm done with that liberalism."

"Still a Democrat though, eh? Join the women and their silly feminism?"

"Still a Democrat. I'm not against feminism... though you won't see me at any sort of march. Miss Schuyler would have my head if I were to go against that," he joked lightly, then his face went grave once again, "Socially Republican. At least I care to admit that. Jefferson appears as a social Democrat— we all know that's untrue."

"Which is why—" the man shot the ball, "he cannot afford to have his affair with Hemings public. Can you imagine? Disaster. He's the leader of today's Republican Party. He's running for President next election, did you know?"

"He'd never win over Washington," Alexander laughed.

"We'll see," he paused, "I win."

"Goddammit. One more shot, I bet I would have beat you," Alexander hissed.

"Bet?"

"Bet two thousand that I'll make this shot," he smirked. "And it's Thomas' fault that he got his slave pregnant."

"Hey, can your cousin understand what we are saying?"

"No," Alex answered, "his English is poor. If he does hear anything, however, then he wouldn't be able to connect the dots."

"Alright," the masked man said.

"So you were saying...?"

"Ah, yes. I agree with you on that. That's the glory of you having a male whore— he'll never get pregnant, yet the feeling is the same, yeah? Still blow you just as well," he laughed. I squirmed uncomfortably. Where I am now, I'm not his whore. I'm a friend visiting. I'm an equal. Nobody else knows that I'm a slave. I'm a man again. 

Still, it didn’t help that I literally just blew him in the bathroom.

"I'll admit, yes," Alexander sighed.

"The catch with being rich is that you can have any type of whore you want. When you own them, their sex doesn't matter. Not frowned upon like it is when it's two free men."

"It's the loophole of society."


	43. Honest Lies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mrs. Hudson’s voice: “Ooh, I see you two are having a little domestic?”

"Did you mean that?" I whispered on the drive home.

"Mean what? Is this something that should wait until home?"

"Home," I repeated quietly. "Yes... it should wait."

When we got home at last, it was past midnight. Alexander and I crept very quietly upstairs; as soon as the bedroom door was closed behind us, he backed me against the wall and kissed me. I chuckled a bit and kissed back for a moment. We swapped around and I pushed him against the door, holding my hands on his waist.

At last, I pulled away. I was a bit tipsy from the wine but not severely so. Not like last time, luckily, since I didn't remember anything from the last time I got drunk. Alexander could have had sex with me and I wouldn't have remembered. That was frightening, though I know he wouldn't. I trust him.

"Did you mean," I cleared my throat a bit and braced his arm, his back still pressed against the wall, "when you were playing pool... did you mean that stuff you said?"

"John," he whispered, raising a hand to touch my cheek gently.

"I mean— I know you didn't... even if you had meant it you wouldn't tell me. It's just that with everything going on lately you've said it a lot and it shouldn't bother me since it's not true but it does," I said. I paused and bit my lip. "I just want you to really love me."

"John, I really— I really wish life worked out like that," he mumbled. 

"What do you mean by that, Alexander?" I grumbled out. I felt broken. Subconsciously, my hands had moved from his hips to brace his shoulders roughly. He stayed against the wall, looking slightly cowardly under my control.

"No— no, John, I just mean that... I don't want to hurt you more."

"Please," I whispered, my voice cracking, "please don't go back to this... please just," I whispered a bit, trailing off. "Please just love me."

"You don't understand how much I want to have this with you, John," he said. "But it would never work out."

"But it can. We can make it work," I begged.

"John, don’t be as foolish as an adolescent," he grabbed my hands sternly, holding them against his chest and forcing me to look at his eyes. Was he crying? "As long as you're my slave, we can be together. Here at home— we're more than what they think. I care about you so much."

"You care about me," I repeated.

"Yes," Alexander hugged me, "I care. The outside world is complicated and dangerous for us... we don't need a public relationship to establish love. We just need the two of us— the two of our hearts."

"I know," I mumbled, still upset, "I just wish it were some other way."

"Wishes and prayers don't bring miracles. There's nothing we can do. It kills me, but it's true."

"Well what about that other shit you said?" I whispered, "Is Jefferson really running for President?"

"I'm assuming so. He'll announce it soon."

"Are you going to vote for him?"

Alexander paused and curled his lips in for a moment. "No. No, of course not." 

I sighed in relief and buried my face in his neck. “Good. You better not.” He rubbed my back and sighed.

"You know I'd climb the highest mountains to keep you safe," he mumbled, "I promise you that. Even if that mountain is hard on us both... anything to keep you safe in the long run."

"I love you," I said.

He didn't say it back. He just hugged me and I hugged back. I held onto his arms and laid my head on his shoulder. Tenderly, Alexander held my hand and led me to the bed.

He laid me down and continued to kiss me, unbuttoning my suit jacket. Alexander pulled it off of my shoulders and unbuttoned the white dress shirt. He continued kissing me sloppily before trailing down over my neck. I bit my lip and moaned under my breath. 

"Alex," I whispered. He was unbuttoning his suit jacket, still kissing my neck. "Alexander.”

"Yes?" he mumbled, cupping my cheeks.

"We should, ehm, get to bed, it's late," after a moment I breathed, "please?"

"Yeah," he got off of me. "If that's what you want."

I got off of the bed as well, holding my shirt. Quickly, I went behind the divider and got changed before coming back out and crawling into bed. Alexander laid down next to me after turning off the lights.

"Is it okay between us?" Alexander mumbled, his arms around me. I stayed still.

"I don't know, Alexander, is it?" I replied in a hushed voice.

"Did I upset you?"

"I don't know, did you?" I sighed and rolled my shoulders back, tucking my knees against my chest. "I'm sorry, it's just that I'm sure you could answer these questions on your own."

"I want it to be okay,"  he said at last.

I stayed quiet. 

He went on, "what do I need to do to make it okay, John? D-did I do something wrong?— was I moving too fast? I promise I didn't mean to—"

"No," I stopped him. "No, I just feel... like you're not being entirely honest with me."

"What about?"

"You know what!" I snapped and flipped over so that I was facing him. "You say sweet words constantly then you turn around and call me your whore! I just blew you in the bathroom at a party and ten minutes later, you're referring to me as your whore, your slave, i-it hurts."

"John, do you understand the circ—"

I cut him off. "Circumstances! Yes, I understand the circumstances! I understand that we could get killed! I understand that you could lose everything, but I've already lost everything! Everything, Alex, I’m fucking helpless! I don’t have citizenship, I don’t have the right to trial, I don’t have freedom of speech, I have nothing! Lost every shred of dignity to this goddamn dress and every single time you call me names it hurts because you’re the one person whom I can trust anymore! And I apparently can’t even trust you if you don’t talk to me!"

"Stop being a child! I just want to protect you!" Alexander argued. I didn't flinch; I swallowed the lump in my throat and wiped my eyes.

"Then protect me," I spat. My voice quieted, "Just protect me. Stop lying and protect me."

"I'm trying to," he insisted, touching my cheek. I smacked his hand away.

"Are you? Because you seem to care about your job more."

"That is a lie, John, it's not true."

"You have whipped me in front of people just to keep your status," I scoffed as my voice wavered, "you have hit me to prove a point. You sure seem to care about your job a goddamn lot more than you care about me."

"John."

"No," I stopped him. "No, don't skate around the question. Answer me... please, Alexander Hamilton, tell me!"

He took a deep breath. I saw a tear slip down his cheek slowly. "I promised you I would stop that.”

"You told Thomas Jefferson that you raped me," I snapped back.

"It's not as simple as that, John! Stop trying to get simple answers to complicated questions!" he shouted. Alexander's hand quivered against my cheek once more, "Please just stop trying to understand things beyond your comprehension?"

I didn't push him away. I just angrily whispered, "Beyond my comprehension?"

"That's not what I meant—"

"I was educated in Switzerland for most of my teenage life! I was going to go to college somewhere and become a scientist! Do you know how much arguing with my father it took to convince him not to send me to law school, to allow me to simply pursue my dream?! I'm so terribly sorry that this imbecilic world took it away from me for having human empathy and moral values!" I shouted. I panted heavily and trembled a bit. Alexander put his arms around me and pulled my body into his. I had no choice but to lie with him. That's all I wanted to do right now. I cried softly after my breakdown, burying my face in his neck.

After forever he finally spoke. Our breathing was quiet now and rain had begun to tap lightly on the windows. 

"I first moved here from the Caribbean," he breathed. "I stayed with Mulligan, a family friend, in New Jersey for a while. Then I met Lafayette. We all thought we could... I don't know, become some sort of freedom fighters. We thought we could ban slavery with the little manpower we had," he chuckled.

"Why did that change?" I whispered a bit angrily against his chest.

"I soon realized that... ideals like that blind us to reality. I met Thomas Jefferson in politics and I soon became wealthy after partaking in the slave trade. Things weren't the greatest with Jefferson. We were... companions with some sort of sexual tension that left after I found out he was sleeping with his slave.”

"Sally," I whispered.

"Sarah 'Sally' Hemings... his sister-in-law. She was his slave and an acquaintance of mine. I'd see her when I visited and she looked so... lost and sad.”

"Why do you own her now?"

Alexander took a deep breath and held me more tightly. "He had gotten her pregnant," he said, exhaling the breath, "it would've destroyed him. So James Madison and I agreed to help him. I bought Sally from him and let her give birth to the baby in a safer environment. The baby was given to Jefferson in exchange. We signed a document promising not to expose this relationship. Then Sally told me about how it wasn't consensual at all even though Thomas told me it was.”

"And you believed him?" I scoffed.

"I thought I could. I believed some sort of shred of him could love her, you know? After his wife died, I suppose he just... couldn’t love anymore. I don’t know if he even is a homosexual,” Alexander scoffed bitterly, blinking back tears in his eyes, “I was horrified and shocked. And the reason Sally never told anybody but I that it wasn't consensual while she was pregnant was because Thomas threatened to end the baby's life. I threatened to expose him but then things escalated and I got blackmailed into buying another slave. That slave was you.”

"But... why?"

"He said that he would tell the world that I was the one who got her pregnant if I didn't purchase a slave of my own. People would likely believe him over I... a lot of the public have it out for me, somehow. It's either how unfaithful I am to the Republicans and how I could easily just be a traitor, or how disgusting I am to the Democrats. I have to be so careful in politics before I even open my mouth. People like Adams, they make things up to get others to hate me more. Adams used to support me, too, and when I switched parties he wouldn't talk to me. He called me a war-hungry mongrel and publicly embarrassed me with lies that would never, ever be true.”

"Alexander..."

He took a deep breath and went on, "Anyway, Jefferson... he gave me money for a new slave. He said he'd check up on me monthly to see if I was 'training' the slave properly. If I supposedly wasn't, he'd tell the world that I was a sympathizer. It'd be believable since it's only been a few years since I switched political parties. There have already been rumors about me being a spy for the resistance, for the modern unionists.”

"I'm sorry," I muttered. "But why did you buy me of all people?"

"You were going to be executed the next day if nobody bought you... I don't believe in love at first sight but something in your eyes was so sorrowful that I was drawn to you. I had to. And then when I brought you home I felt the need to keep you safe, even though my whole job was to be super strict and punishing you and whatnot. But honestly, I liked your sarcasm and the way you rolled your eyes at me. Even so... I was in a tough place. I have to make sure you behaved properly or Jefferson would ruin my career and I wouldn’t be able to be with you. It only got worse as I started having relations with you.”

"Do you promise me something, Alexander?" My hand trembled as I touched his cheek. 

"What is it?"

"Promise me that you don't just protect me out of pity. Please tell me it's more than that."

He took a deep breath. ‘Here it comes’, I thought, ‘he's going to skate around it.’

"It is more than that," he breathed. I finally felt like I could breathe again.

“Do you think one day, we could have something normal...? Hop on a boat to London, pretending to be roommates and just... forget about this?”

“I want that. I want to... to be happy. I trust you.”

“I trust you, too, Lex...”

• • •

Alexander had to go into work the next morning. I was so used to having him around the house that I nearly forgot that he had an actual work building. He quickly kissed me before he left and I felt comfort. Security. 

After he left, before getting dressed I tried on some of his clothes again. It gave me a bit of confidence before I quickly got in the shower. 

I went downstairs after showering and got some breakfast.

"Good morning, Martha," I smiled.

"What's gotten you so joyous, hm?" she asked tiredly, "Is it because Mr. Hamilton is gone? Because I thought you liked him.”

"No, no, it's not that," I said with a slight grin still on my face. "I just feel good.”

She leaned over to me and put her head on my shoulder. "Guess what I heard~" she purred. I pushed her away playfully.

"What?"

"Well, not heard, but I saw you and Hamilton getting back from some sort of masquerade late last night," she explained quietly so that nobody else could hear. Theodosia and Sally were in the next room.

"Did anyone else see us?" I asked quickly.

"Not that I know of."

"Then how did you see?"

"Well..." she trailed off and sighed, "promise you won't tell?"

"Promise," I said.

She took a long pause before smiling shyly, "I found a way to sneak out of the housing at night. I know it's risky but... I walk around the gardens late at night. It's peaceful. Been doing it for months now. And God, did my heart stop when I saw those stupid yellow headlights from that stupid automobile! I hid behind the stone wall and thought I was going to die.”

"Oh my," I laughed. "Okay, I won't tell. I have no reason to, anyhow. I'm not a snitch.”

"Even with your relationship with the master and all?" she whispered. 

"No— no, not at all," I said.

She bit her lip. "Theodosia sort of thinks so. Sally and I don't, however, and it's not like she hates you— she's just skeptical.”

"She's the one who encouraged me," I point out.

"She just thinks it's gone too far," she whispered, "however 'far' that could be. I think it's... fine. Mr. Hamilton has been much more sympathetic since you've been around. Well, except for that period when he kept hurting you— what happened with that?"

"Long story," I waved her off. 

"Explain later, I implore you. Anyway, I'm glad it's over."

"As am I."

"Did he tell you that Mr. Burr is coming by later?" Martha asked.

"Uh, no?"

"Well, he will be later today.”

• • •

Later, Alexander got back and came upstairs. My head shot up when I heard his footsteps behind me. Immediately, I turned around and wrapped my arms around him. He kissed me and smiled.

"How was work?" I asked. He began toward the bedroom; I followed. 

"Exhausting," he answered. 

I chuckled, pulling him down onto the bed and kissing his neck.

"My God, you're so hot," he mumbled between my kisses.

"Mm— Alex, are you always so insatiable when you get home from work?" I asked. He continued to moan beneath me.

"Only for you," he told me. I felt my heart rate quicken.

"For me?" I asked teasingly.

"All for you," he whispered, his hand going to unzip my dress. I felt it fall off of my shoulders as I kissed his neck. He took off his suit jacket and unbuttoned his shirt. 

“Would you repeat that?” I whispered.

“Repeat what? Only for you?”

“Yes— say it again,” I kissed him. 

“Only for you,” he kissed my neck and jaw, “only for you. I’m insatiable only for you.”

I put my hand on his chest to stop him.

"Perhaps this should wait for tonight," I whispered. "Martha told me that Burr was supposed to be here.”

"Goddammit," he sat up, "I completely forgot. Wait, she told you that?"

“Yes, why?”

Alexander shook his head. “She must’ve overheard something on the phone, perhaps,” he waved a dismissive hand, “whatever. She’s right, unfortunately, we can’t get into this right now.”

Alexander began to redress and I did as well. We fixed ourselves up and he kissed my cheek before we both went downstairs.

Burr arrived soon after and I brought out the drinks. I stood nearby, hands clasped.

"Christmas is soon," Burr said, "any reason why you don't have a tree up yet?"

Alexander shrugged.

"And, excuse my asking, but what's with Laurens?" 

I looked up at Burr and Alexander looked between him and I. "It doesn't matter, Burr.”

"Was just asking," he said defensively. "I mean, I know Jefferson and you had the agreement, but are you really going through with it?"

"Not exactly," he replied. I looked at Alexander, partially confused.

"I'd hope not. It's not like you."

He exhaled and smiled at me just a bit. "No, it's not."


	44. Passion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ♥️

After Burr left, so did the other girls. They went out to their quarters and Alexander led me upstairs. 

"So..." I chuckled under my breath as he closed the bedroom door. Alexander found my hands and backed me against the bed.

"So," he repeated softly, pecking my jaw. I laid down on the bed and he crawled over me, his hands on either side of my head. Alexander pushed his lips carefully against mine and passionately kissed me. My hands cupped his face as I kissed back. Alexander pulled away slowly and brushed my hair out of my eyes. "I want to say something cheesy about your handsomeness but I'm breathless," he mumbled.

I just chuckled and rolled my eyes. He lightly grasped my chin and pulled my eyes back to his.

"Are you sure you want this?" he asked. I nodded slowly. Alexander kissed me again and began to pull off my clothes. He didn't tear them off demandingly; it was almost like carefully unwrapping a gift on Christmas, one that has expensive paper so you don't want to rip it.

His own clothes were taken off as well until we were left still kissing between the sheets, our hands clasped together. I had the sheets wrapped around my body, technically separating us. Alexander trailed down to my collarbone and sucked tenderly.

I wrapped my arms around his waist and flipped us over, staying on top of him and pinning him down. I basked in the way he smelled, kissing his neck. He wrapped his legs around me and dragged his hands over my body. I felt his fingers over my shoulder blades and shivered.

“John,” I heard Alexander breathe. I felt him pushing up on me, coaxing us to flip over. I reluctantly did so, tilting my head back against the pillows.

"Alexander?" I mumbled under my breath.

"Are you okay?" he leaned upwards.

"Yes," I whispered.

"Are you nervous?"

"No," I said. “Not really.”

"I promise it'll be good," he hummed, clasping my hand in his and bringing it up to his lips. Alexander kissed my knuckles and looked me in the eyes. "Do you trust me?"

"I trust you, Alexander," I said quietly. "I trust you with my life."

"Good," Alexander breathed nearly silently. “John, I— I trust you, too.” His lips brushed over my shoulder before retreating. He got off of the bed and looked through his drawers before coming back with a small bottle.

"Is that...?" I inquired.

"Olive oil," he confirmed, getting back over me. He straddled my hips and half-smiled, his hand reached out to touch my cheek. "I don't want to hurt you," he murmured under his breath, lips curled slightly in the sincerest of ways.

“Hurt me?” I chuckled. “How come you are the one who...?”

“Please, John.”

"Fine. I'm tough as nails," I put my hand over his and leaned into his touch. 

"Promise?"

"Promise," I confirmed, smiling at him.

Alexander sighed and pecked my lips, the kiss lingering for an affectionate moment. He slowly pulled the sheets back off of my body. The only sounds were the shallow inhales followed by exhales by our parted lips that hovered perpendicular to one another. The room was dim, our bodies together keeping us warm in the cool room. As Alexander's lips dwelled upon my nearly nude body, I tried to ground my sense to that of the room. It smelled like cinnamon; there were two vanilla candles burning by the window on the desk, and by the candles were the cinnamon sticks that were bundled with a small ribbon. 

Another characteristic that soothed me was the way that Alexander touched me. It was steady and tender. He certainly treated me like a delicate glass ornament. It was such a nice change to the way I had been treated growing up. A shift from the rough life I lived and then a dramatic shift from prison and from that period of time that I was here. It felt as though, somehow, I wasn't in the same place that I had arrived months ago. Months ago, I came to a frightening and new place. Now it was familiar. Even the way he touched me was familiar. I never wanted to go back to my old life unless it was with Alexander. I had a home here; something I nearly always hesitated to say in my old 'home'.

Alexander's love was a feeling I hadn't truly experienced before. His hands brushed over my freckled arms affectionately as he searched for my hands. I loved his hands; his hands were cool and had rough fingertips from his constant writing. Mine were more rough from other things, such as handling horses and climbing trees, and even my current employment of cleaning.

Why I was still a virgin was a thought I had never considered. I preferred to free myself of those sorts of relations. Especially when I felt most attracted to other men; that certainly wasn't allowed. I've kissed other men before Alexander and one girl who had kissed me in school without consent. I had started out afraid of Alexander, though, when all along he was trying to help me. Perhaps not hard enough at times. His pride was likely an unalterable trait of his, but to love somebody you must be willing to work with their quirks.

Solicitously, Alexander grazed his writer’s fingertips over my stomach and over my hips. The blankets were over both of our exposed bodies. I was neural at first to be naked yet, between his own nakedness and his touches, Alexander had made me feel okay with it. He made my body feel so special and aflame yet so at ease with him in general. I grasped onto his shoulder and inhaled the way his breath smelled of fresh coffee. I basked in it, really, so cozy in his scent and his tickling embrace. 

“I want coffee,” I mumbled against his lips. Alexander laughed a little, pulling away. 

“You— what?”

“Coffee,” I repeated, grabbing on to his hips, “Coffee would be so nice.”

“Uh... why?” he asked.

“Because you smell like coffee.” I kissed him again. “—And you taste like coffee. It’s nice. You smell nice.”

“That’s a charmer,” Alexander chuckling, rolling on to his back. I got on top of him and kissed his neck.

I nodded, lips brushing over his Adam’s apple, “Oh, I know, right? That’s how I pick up all the pretty guys at the bar,” I joked. “Tell then they smell nice and they’re all practically falling at my feet.”

“Pfft—” Alexander laughed and wrapped his arms around my neck. “You’re ridiculous.”

I smiled and went back to kissing him, eventually being rolled back on to my back as he lowered himself between my legs. He spread them and looked up at me. 

Alexander confirmed with me once more before putting the oil on his finger and slowly going into my hole. The feeling was very different and I was discomforted at first, but after a moment I got into it. The feeling prompted a quiet moan to escape from my parted lips. Slowly, he entered another finger. A lot more discomfort. He ceased moving.

"Is it okay?" Alexander murmured, looking up at me from where he was between my legs. 

I hummed in response a bit painfully, nodding. He slipped the other finger out and just kept one in for a moment. It was much more comfortable. Then he inserted the other finger again. I found myself letting out another soft breath. Alexander leisurely moved his fingers until he pulled them out again. 

"It might be a bit uncomfortable," he told me quietly, "so, don't hesitate to tell me if it hurts at all."

"Mmhm," I managed to hum. I kept my eyes closed as the olive oil bottle popped open again and then was closed before his member entered me. It was definitely more uncomfortable than the fingers but I swallowed back the lump in my throat. Alexander didn't move. "You've done this before?"

"Yes," he hesitated.

"With who? Jefferson?"

"Does it matter?"

"Yes," I cut him off, "tell me who you've done this with.”

"Thomas. Thomas and I did this a few times," he admitted, moving his fingers roughly. I grunted and grabbed his arm.

"Shit, Alex," I groaned. I stayed quiet for a moment. 

"John," he mumbled. My legs were wrapped around his hips limply and he sat on his knees. I dropped one of my hands from his arm to realize the couple tears slipping down my cheeks. I quickly tried to wipe them away. "John, are you okay? Tell me to stop if you—"

"No," I managed to get out warily, "I want to... I'm sorry, it just really hurts.”

Alexander pulled out and brushed my hair out of my eyes before wiping the tears. He smiled softly. "Hey... it's okay, you don't have to be sorry.”

"I—"

"Don't be sorry," Alexander repeated. "It's just as much about you as it is about me. Your feelings matter just as much. I don't want to hurt you. So, tell me if something doesn't feel right."

"Okay, okay. I’m fine.” I rolled my eyes and smiled as his lips pressed to mine again. The coffee could make me indulge in his lips any time. It reminded me of a warm hug; then, perhaps every time I smell or drink coffee, it would remind me of Alexander's warm embrace. "Why... why do you care so much?"

"Thomas never cared with me," he whispered honestly. "I'm sorry, I don't want to bring him up with you when this is supposed to be us.”

"It's okay, Lex," I mumbled. "We should talk about these things."

"I won't bring him up again. I just want you to feel good. My first time wasn't as... passionate."

"I get it. Thank you," I said. "Perhaps if you're already used to it, you—"

"No," he said quickly, laughing and hiding an embarrassed look. “No, I-I want to be the one to... you know.”

“Why?”

“I just don’t...” he looked away and sighed. 

“Alex?”

“Thomas didn’t care about me.” Alexander smiled bitterly and kept his gaze focused on something past me. I noticed his glossy eyes and reached up, touching his cheek. “I never wanted him to love me, I just thought he might’ve at least thought of me in an endearing way. Perhaps... perhaps enough of me to treat me like a human, but in retrospect he really just...”

Alexander said no more. I took his chin gently, pulling him to me and kissing him gently. “It’s okay. Go on.”

He shrugged and somewhat collapsed on me, laying his head on my chest. “I-I’m sorry,” he laughed. His voice cracked and he sniffled, “I hate to ruin this with my stupid problems...”

“It’s important.”

“Thomas treated me no better than he treated Sally,” Alexander whispered. “So I just...”

“I wouldn’t treat you like that. Ever,” I added softly, petting his dark, sleek hair.

“Can you just let me do this? At least once, I just need to feel... in control,” he mumbled. “Please, John?”

"Alright. Alright,” I repeated and whispered, “but I'll get you back. When you’re ready," I chuckled. 

Alexander laughed. I rubbed his back and his ass and over his thighs, feeling his body and tenderly showing him the affection he deserved. I kissed his neck. Alexander sat up, touched my cheek, then, instead of going back to before, decided to pay more attention to my member. He massaged it carefully, making me moan a bit. 

He used more olive oil and entered me again at an even slower pace. I had my legs up and around his waist and my hands in his. His hips were out so that he wasn't going in me yet, but was still leaned over me, our clasped hands pressing into the bed.

"Just tell me what you want," Alexander soughed. I didn't feel tears actively moving down my cheeks, just the salty buildup in the corners of my eyes. 

Finally, in a low hum I whispered, "You can go now— just... slowly.”

"Of course." 

Alexander began to push into me a bit more. I winced at the unusualness of it. It didn't hurt like before, it was just uncomfortable and abnormal. The feeling was entirely new to me, of course, and strange.

"This okay?" he asked. I nodded in response. "Okay... okay. Just relax, okay? Just relax. It helps." Soon the pain had faded and in its place was a new feeling. He pumped into me at a still slow pace.

I uttered his name just barely as we went, our bodies pressed together as the bed shifted just slightly with our weight. My hands stayed pinned by either side of my head on my pillow. I grasped his hands more tightly to brace myself, simultaneously my legs wrapping more tightly around his waist. His name had escaped my lips again, yet still quiet.

"This good?" he grunted under his breath, face hovering over mine. 

"Yes— yes," I whispered, moaning a bit still. While the discomfort still existed, it was dominated by pleasure. There was a continuous feeling of affection from Alexander, the way he was thoughtful of what I wanted and loving towards me fully. I braced his body in every possible way, holding him closer as he thrust just a bit faster. The pace was steady and consistent. I found the moans fluttering off of my lips rawly. 

Words between us stayed at the minimum; all we truly needed was the motions and the loyalty to one another shown through how tightly we had woven our hands and how close we kept our bodies. 

I let go of his hands and grabbed his waist, pulling myself up. I felt him thrust deeper, causing me to gasp moan out of surprise. I held him against me, panting against his neck.

“John...” I heard him breathe.

I felt myself reaching a climax. I held onto Alexander more tightly than I had before. The feeling was amazingly indescribable.  

“Can I— release inside you, or...?” He panted heavily, eyes closing as he continued.

“Ah— shit, sure, whatever,” I grunted a bit. Alexander came inside of me and I let out a breathy sigh at the feeling. Soon, he stopped pumping as I climaxed and he rolled off of me, collapsing by my side. I kept my eyes closed in ecstasy and used my free hand to touch his cheek. 

"Was that good?" he panted.

"Incredibly," I breathed, “you’re not too bad, Hamilton.”

“Hah... thanks.”

“You too. Thank you.”

I bathed in the pungency of the room. I didn't know that sex had a scent, really. The vanilla and cinnamon wafted through the thick scent of Alexander. The way his body and breath smelled. The way his skin felt when I clutched onto him. 

“What for?”

“Just... being you,” I rolled over and kissed him, hugging his body close. I buried my face in his neck. “My God, you smell so good.”

“I’m touched.”

I chuckled and kissed his neck sloppily. “So, have you ever done that before?”

“I-I already told you, I did with—”

“No, I mean, have you ever screwed a guy like that?” I grinned. He blushed and looked away. “Because you’re pretty good at it. But next time, I oughta show you how it’s done.”

“Oh yeah?” he chuckled.

“Oh yeah,” I echoed, laughing and teasingly brushing my hand over his stomach and chest as I went back to his neck. “I will, Alex, don’t you underestimate me. I’ll do it when you least expect it.”

“Mm,” he rolled his eyes playfully and turned on his side, kissing my cheek and shifting down to bury his nose in my chest. “John, don’t you dare put your cock in me while I’m sleeping.”

“Dastardly, I would never,” I teased.

• • •

"Where are you going?" I murmured as his body left the bed. I fluttered my eyes open.

"Shh," he hushed me. "I'm going to run a bath."

"Okay.” 

I pulled the silky covers over my nude shoulders, burying myself into the sheets. A little while later, Alexander came back wearing a bathrobe. He pulled the covers off of me and I leaned on him as we walked in the dark to the washroom.

"It's warm," he told me, carefully helping me in one corner of the large tub. 

"Will you stay with me?" I asked.

He sighed after a moment and nodded, taking off his robe and getting in the tub with me. 

"Are you sure that it was good?" Alexander murmured.

I reached out through the warm bubbly water of the lavender-smelling tub and clasped his hand.

"Alexander," I looked him in the eyes, "I told you, yes. I loved it.”

He sighed and smiled a bit. "Alright."

“We’re actually children right now,” I threw some suds at him and he laughed, rolling his eyes. 

“You’re the child, I’m not the one participating in the throwing of the—” he stopped, getting lavender bubbles in his mouth. He spit and wiped his tongue on the back of his hand, picking up a fluffy light handful of the suds. “Never mind, you totally deserve this!” Alexander proclaimed, throwing the bubbles at me. I laughed and splashed him, smiling. He bit his lip and looked away.

“Hey,” I smirked. “Look me in the eyes when I talk to you, Alex.”

Alexander rolled his eyes and made eye-contact. I leaned forward and took his hand underwater, both of us smiling stupidly.


	45. Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde

“Do you remember how we snuck out to the ball?” Alexander whispered, wrapping his arms around my neck, startling me. I nodded and he kissed me. When he pulled away, he whispered, “Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde is playing at a theater not far from here. A newer film, have you seen it?”

“I don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure,” I hummed. “Are you insinuating...?”

“Yes,” he kissed me again, “it’ll be dark, and there are seats in the far back on a balcony, so in the case that we are careful, nobody will notice...” his hand moved down my back and onto the back of my thigh. “How’s that sound?”

“Sounds perfect,” I mumbled, nuzzling my face into his neck.

“I already got tickets for tonight,” he smiled sheepishly, “so I’ll have to drag you along anyhow.”

I chuckled and slipped my arms around his waist, kissing him before pulling away. “You sly bastard, Mr. Hamilton.”

“Alas, I admit it, Mr. Laurens,” he joked. 

“So... when are we going to be attending this film...?” I mumbled, my hands moving down his back as I drew closer. 

“Hm?”

“Because if we have time,” I hummed, twisting my arms around to my back to unzip my dress, “then perhaps we could have some alone time.”

“As if we don’t already spend every second of the day together,” Alexander laughed, helping me unzip. “Honestly, what was the point of another maid when you never clean?”

“In my defense, I’ve put up with a lot from you in these past— few...? More or less, perhaps I should really check the calendar— several months, so I deserve a while off from cleaning. Just so long as we get to...” I trailed off, pulling off the stockings. I made a face subconsciously as I thought about the outfit in disgust. I looked up, opening my mouth to mention it, when Alexander suddenly put his hands on my bare back and pulled me closer.

“Mm, but I’d prefer you clean.”

My eyebrows drew together as I pushed away. “You’re bluffing.”

“Indeed I am,” he laughed, undoing his tie as I began to undo the buttons of his white shirt, sighing a little.

“Ass,” I muttered. He backed me against the bed, shirt now off. His arms hooked under my thighs, pulling me into a kiss.

“In all honesty, John, I’d much rather prefer this,” he hummed as I unfastened his belt, "anytime.”

“Anytime?” I teased. I wrapped my arms around his torso and flipped us over, kissing his neck. 

“You know what I— mn... mean.”

“Perhaps I do,” I sat up, on top of his hips, “Oh— Alexander, I’ve been meaning to—”

I sharp knock interrupted my question, startling me off of Alexander as we both scrambled off of the bed. He tried to pull on his shirt, moving as quickly as humanly possible as I reached for the nearest shirt myself— a cotton one swung over the divider. The knock came again. I turned to see Alexander tucking his shirt in. He was beginning to tie his tie when the knock came a third time. 

“Mr. Hamilton!” I heard Martha’s voice. Alexander motioned me away and I moved somewhat out of view of the door, behind the divider. 

“Right, yes, Martha,” I heard Alexander open the door as I silently searched through the chest of drawers in the closet behind the divider. “What is it?”

“Uh— Mr. Hamilton, there is someone downstairs for you.”

“Who?” I heard the slightest bit of concern in his voice. 

“Miss Schuyler,” she answered.

“Shi— okay, okay.” 

Martha left and Alexander turned to me, kissed me, and I grabbed his tie.

“Alex, wait,” I mumbled. He looked me right in the eyes, not pulling away. 

“What is it?”

“Peggy— is she staying long? Do you think it is an emergency?”

“I doubt it. You may stay up here, do whatever, she won’t keep me more than an hour, I’m sure of it. Get ready in that time for the film, alright? A suit, hat, whatever.”

“Alright,” I nodded, smiling. I kissed him on the cheek and he turned, leaving the room. 

A while later, I dressed in a suit and quickly cleaned the dirty clothes off of the floor in the bedroom. I contemplated actually doing chores but I ended up dusting a little, bored and perhaps considering snooping through Alexander’s papers. I decided against it, however, when I heard footsteps coming up the stairs. I sighed in relief and pulled Alexander into a kiss.

“What’d Peggy want?” I mumbled. Alexander hugged me.

“Nothing, just tea I suppose, and she wanted to discuss politics and whatnot. I told the damned woman I couldn’t attend her marches— but oh, no, now I’m the bad guy.”

I laughed, “Perhaps you should attend sometime, Alex. They got suffrage, what more could they possibly harm? Not that women voting is harm, of course, but to your precious career?”

“I’d rather spend time with you or with the fifty-one essays I’m currently supposed to be writing. Ah, anyway, I got the driver to start one of the automobiles and it should be ready so, are you ready to go?”

“I— wait, hat?” I stopped him, “You mentioned a hat.”

“Ah! Right,” he turned on his heel and walked to the bedroom. Alexander dug through the closet before handing me a hat and inspecting me. I teasingly pushed my lips out as if to kiss him and retracted into a smile. He grabbed my hips and kissed me anyway, making my smile falter as I leaned into his lips. Alexander pulled away at last and took my hand. “Right, John, we have a film to catch, let’s go.”

I laughed and nodded, wiping my lip. He and I walked silently through the house— the women oblivious and finishing up in the kitchen— then got into the automobile.

“Exciting,” I whispered under my breath, glancing through the small glass window at the driver who sat outside of the actual car part. I glanced at Alexander in the privacy of the car. I bit my lip, suddenly feeling his hand on my knees, then sliding up my thigh. I leaned closer the further up his hand moved, our lips almost touching. Since nobody could see us, I didn’t bother blushing away or being shy. 

I laid my lips on his cheek and sighed gently, feeling the hand moving up a little further. I buried my face in his neck, humming a little when his hand moved to the innards of my thighs, going a bit higher. 

“Alex,” I mumbled, letting out a breath against his neck. He enclosed his lips gently around the lobule of my ear. I gasped lightly and closed my eyes, trying not to breathe heavily.

“Hey,” he mumbled, releasing my ear. I clawed my hand into the seat, feeling a warm feeling in my chest. “We can’t really do this here.”

“I know,” I whispered, hugging him a bit closer. “I know.”

“I’m sorry.”

“What for?” I pulled away slowly. His hand moved down my thigh and onto my knee.

Alexander took a deep breath and sighed. “Hurting you.”

“Alex, I told you—“

“I know you did. But I’m sorry.”

I shook my head and pulled him into a kiss. “And I forgive you.”

Once we had gotten to the theater, I kept my head down to not be recognized. It was luckily dark and we were on a private balcony seat in the back, obscured by crowds of people. Alexander and I sat normally, avoiding being seen. 

I did, however, sneakily hold his hand. It made me smile slightly as we watched the black and white film.

When we got back to his estate, I was tired enough to fall over, though I wasn’t sure why. Perhaps I had exerted myself being anxious about the possibility of being seen, or perhaps the excitement of sneaking around with Alexander got the best of me. Whatever the reason, I showered and stalked off to get dressed. I pulled on just a cotton shirt and some underwear, glancing out the window.

For whatever reason, I could have sworn I saw a cloaked figure moving outside. But upon further inspection, I realized my eyes were simply playing a trick on me. I acknowledged briefly the demise of my sanity and walked to the bed, where Alexander was reading a book by the lamplight. Unsurprisingly, might I add.

“Alex,” I whispered, getting in next to him. 

“Hm?”

“I think I’m crazy.”

Alexander laughed and didn’t take his eyes off the book. “No, you’re not.”

“I swear, I think I am.” I put a hand on his chest, nuzzling my face into his cheek. “I’m imagining things, I thought I saw somebody outside.”

Alexander closed his book quickly, barely making sure the ribbon was keeping his page, before turning to me. I sat up. 

“Alex? I didn’t actually see anyone, I looked out the window and there was clearly nobody there.”

“I think you’re just tired, John,” he whispered, twisting to turn off the lamp. As his face was suddenly obscured with darkness, I flinched and reached my arms around him. He sighed and pulled me closer, laying his head on my chest. “You know, I think you’ve gained weight.”

“Pardon me,” I joked.

“No, no, not like that,” he chuckled, hand moving over my stomach, “just— it’s a good thing! You looked starved at the auction house but over the months you’ve been here, you look more normal. It’s a great thing, actually, I hated seeing you all skin and bones. It’s sad— like a stray dog, y’know, left on the streets...”

“Thanks.”

“Not that you’re a stray dog, you’re much more handsome.” 

I chuckled and kissed the top of his head.

“Go to sleep, Alex, you’re drunk when you stay up so late.”

“Perhaps,” he hummed, nuzzling against my chest again, “night, John.”

“Goodnight."


	46. Chess

"Is there a particular reason you do not celebrate Christmas?" I asked Alexander. He looked up slowly from his work. 

"I hate people," Alexander said simply. I huffed.

"Me too," I agreed honestly. "But why don't we have a small Christmas? Not even a tree, Alexander?"

"I think it is... imbecilic.”

"Whatever you want to believe.”

Alexander groaned and continued writing. 

After we had slept together, I felt oddly much closer. It was like reassure that he had never shown me verbally. I know he still hasn't said 'I love you', but perhaps he was scared. Or... perhaps he didn't love me— though that was unlikely. I sometimes resented myself for acting so dependent on him. Still, I couldn't help that he was the only person whom I've ever truly loved. I love my siblings and I loved my mother, but this love with Alexander surpassed bounds of propriety. I say 'I love you' over and over, yet he never responds. It's too much for him, he's afraid. Our romance... It‘s marriage at its' best, rivalry at its' worst. The roller coaster of emotions was like a game of chess. The only way to win was checkmate, yet it would benefit us both. 

What could the checkmate be?

Somehow I felt as though we were missing something more than a checkmate. More than an, 'I love you'.

I craved a rook to our chess game. 

I felt like a bishop, moving as far as I can but only in a certain direction. Alexander could move anywhere he wanted as well, more than I could, but still had limitations... as if he moved too far, he would lose. Alexander was the queen of our chess game. He controlled it all, really, but without him, there was no defense for the weakest yet most important piece.

The rook needed to bring us forward.

• • •

Alexander continued to work on his type-writer, meanwhile, I watched the snow fall outside. The slaves outside were bundled in warmer clothes, thankfully. I sighed heavily. 

"You know what I want for Christmas?" I whispered. Alexander ceased typing. 

"What is it you want?"

"For everybody to be free." 

Alexander didn't say anything. I stayed quiet and he didn't even begin to type again. After a moment, he got up from his chair and walked to me. He sat next to me on the sofa. His hand clasped mine and held on to me. Alexander nuzzled his face into my neck and just laid there. "Me too."

I didn't know what to say. I had a lot of ideas of what he could say in response but that was absolutely not one. 

"You do?" I whispered. 

"Yes," Alexander mumbled. 

"Then why don't you?"

Alexander shook his head and just readjusted himself on my shoulder. He spoke quietly, "Don't you get it, John? I'll lose my job. I'll lose my political career. I'll lose my money, my home, I'll lose you."

"If you were to free me..." I trailed off a bit, "would I be allowed to go home?"

"Do you want to go home?"

"Alexander, answer my question.”

He sighed. "Yes, you'd go home. You would no longer be able to visit me here," after a pause he added, "we wouldn't be able to see one another."

I held onto his hand tighter. "Why can't I just live here, in New York? Or even with you?"

"People will know. They'll begin to talk... if you're having relations with me as a free citizen, then we could be prosecuted.”

"Is this why you won't say, 'I love you' back?" I asked.

He didn't answer. "Do you want to go home, John?"

"No. If I was freed I'd move north anyway. I was nineteen when I was arrested, I'm twenty-one now, since I spent a year in prison and my birthday must have just passed. I was so close to being able to live away from South Carolina and yet... things went so wrong.”

"How were you caught?" Alexander asked me. “I mean, I know what you were caught for, of course, but I want to hear it from your lips.”

"Smuggling some slaves from my father's farm, planning on bringing them to Mexico where they could be free. Sheriff pulled over the automobile I was driving and I was arrested.”

"Don't they kill people who are smuggling?"

I laughed. "You read the newspapers, didn't you? You must have."

"I did. They let you live since your father was wealthy. He told the court that you had an incurable mental illness."

"Homosexuality, or as they said, 'sodomy'. They tried to 'cure' me in prison. I heard their whispers... the warden and the officers were sure that I was going to commit suicide," I said. Alexander held onto my hand securely.

"And you had tried. In the newspaper it said that you were caught trying to hang yourself with fabric ripped from one of the shirts," Alexander sighed and buried his face in my neck. 

"Yes. I tried multiple times. I tried everything I could to not be bought at the monthly auction. Do you know how difficult that is? All those poor bastards who spent no more than a month in prison before getting bought... I pitied them. I know how owners treat their slaves. At least you— I got lucky with you, huh?” I pet his cheek endearingly, “You confuse your slaves for friends, Alex... you should’ve heard the way Theodosia talked about you when I arrived.” 

“How so?” 

“‘Oh, John, he’s not that bad!’” I mocked in a high-pitched voice, “‘He feeds his slaves! We have heat in the winter! He doesn’t beat us! What a kind, kind man!’” 

Alexander laughed bitterly at this, rolling his eyes. I talked normally again:

“She was so... persistent in making sure I knew that you weren’t cruel or abusive. I didn’t believe it, really, though now I can tell you aren’t. Ha, I mean, there was that short amount of time when you happened to be, right? But that was more of a domestic thing than genuinely hurting a slave. No, wait, you whipped me, too!” I laughed and trailed off, feeling my voice become weaker so I changed the topic a bit, “Anyway, that— I don’t believe you to be cruel. And Theodosia didn’t either. She had no reason to, I mean, you barely talk to your slaves. Except me.”

“Except you,” he nodded. “Honestly, John, I really just wanted to be your friend. But I was worried— I guess— about... I don’t know. Jefferson, my career, you...”

“It’s fine,” I whispered as I continued to brush his cheek. “So— Alex, I got lucky with you. Sort of. I could have gotten a genuinely cruel owner, right? That’s why I was afraid. I didn’t want to end up like that. And with nobody buying me, I was quite satisfied. My life was over and I accepted that... then you came along... did you know that I was at that prison?"

Alexander bit his lip. "Perhaps a hunch. Peggy works for a newspaper... she told me that you were likely there. I heard about how you were going to be executed after the auction if you weren't bought.”

“You must’ve known my name. Everyone knows my name. And that deed says my name. I’m not ‘obscure’ and when people see me, even Jefferson, the response is, ‘oh, that’s John Laurens, the son of that congressman who got arrested for being a slave sympathizer!’ So why were you so determined to have me tell you my name, huh?” I complained, crossing my arms. Alexander’s face turned red and he laughed nervously, looking away. I decided to tease more, “And look me in the eyes when you answer me.”

Alexander let out a big sigh and looked me in the eyes, serious as can be, saying: “I wanted to antagonize you.”

“That’s... it? You devil.”

“Yes,” he kissed me quickly and smiled, putting his head on my shoulder. His voice went a bit more grave, “So, why weren’t you sold for a whole year?”

"I starved myself so I was weak. I talked back, got myself hit. The auctioneer made it his personal duty to talk me down. Nobody else wanted to buy me. And when you bought me I was surprised. People knew I was going to die and they didn't care."

"Didn't your father try to buy you?"

I laughed again. "No. Even if he wanted to, he wouldn't be allowed to,” I paused and changed the subject, “You told me before, Alexander, that you felt pity towards me. But you also said Jefferson made you buy a slave. What's the truth?"

"Both are the truth. Thomas told me to buy a new slave but didn't know that it was going to be you. I felt bad for you... I admired your stupidity to free your father's slaves."

"Stupidity?" I scoffed. 

"You're impulsive, John,” he took his head off of my shoulder and squeezed my hands tightly, “There's no lie. You had risked your own life for the lives of the people you had no business to meddle with. And where are you now? Scrawny and half-starved when you got out of prison and now you're my slave. And where are the slaves whose lives you wished to better? Why, when they got back, the four of them were likely killed. Beaten at the best."

"And I suppose it's my fault?" I smiled sadly. "What would you have done, Alexander?"

"In your position... I wish I had the courage to do what you did."

“Alex,” I shook my head and laid it on his shoulder. “Don’t say that. You had the courage to get up and go to America after the war, you had the courage to switch political parties and run for office— no matter how much I hate your political views— and you had the courage to break it off with Jefferson after you found out who he really was. Maybe you don’t believe it but we’re all cowards, Alexander. But that doesn’t mean you can’t be strong.”

“John,” he mumbled, closing his eyes and writhing to put his head in my lap. “I don’t deserve you.”

I took his ponytail out and began to comb my fingers through his dark hair. “I love you. You don’t have to say it back, but I love you.”

“John...” Alexander whispered quietly. ”I trust you.”


	47. Poet’s Interlude

_"Each time his shrieks pierce—_

_They do so with ice—_

_So cold that it burns—_

_In his bosom's demise—"_

 

My hand crazed over the paper. The poem was hand-written.

_“I try not to be the cause of his pain—_

_But each time he utters my name—_

_I can't help but feel just a little distraught—_

_In the knowledge that his heart is not mine to drop—”_

 

Alexander could be back from the kitchen any moment now...

 

_“I toss and I turn but with every each night—_

_The thought of his words still lingers my mind—_

_What a stupid thing to say: ‘I love you’—_

_When those words cannot possibly be true—”_

 

This poem must be about me. When did he write this? I know that whatever he has written, it must be pure, raw, unfiltered. No lies. True— it's stupid to profess love. But the words must be true.

Who am I attempting to fool? He cares for me... it's more than infatuation. I couldn't wrap my head around it. Love is stronger than infatuation. Still, if he cares enough to show me physically that he loves me, then how could the words be untrue?

My thought was cut off by a door opening. I jumped slightly and pulled my hand away from the poetry on his desk and backed away.

"John," Alexander furrowed his eyebrows.

"Alexander," I cleared my throat. "Everything alright?"

"Is there a reason it wouldn't be? What were you looking at?"

I swallowed. "Nothing."

"You seemed startled when I came into the room. What were you looking at?"

"Nothing," I insisted.

Alexander shook his head and approached me. "I'm no idiot. Stop lying to me.”

"Just some of your writing is all... really, I didn't mean to invade your privacy—"

Alexander cut me off and grabbed my wrist. He pulled me away from the desk roughly and I resisted, glaring. I held my breath as he picked up papers.

"Don't ever go through my stuff again," he told me harshly.

"Fine. I didn't mean to pry, you just make it so difficult to trust you when you hide things."

"I trust you, John. Private thoughts are not secrets nor will they ever be. I swear, if I ever catch you going through my stuff again, I'll—" he stopped and looked down at his feet, his grip on the papers even more strong. Alexander took a deep breath and didn't look at me. Quietly he then said, "Do not go through my stuff."

"Alexander," I whispered in return, "I want you to be comfortable with talking to me..."

"You wouldn't understand."

"Are you sure about that?"

Alexander stayed quiet again. Then he mumbled, "I'm sure. Please don't pry."

I sighed. "I won't pry..."

"Thank you."

I nodded slowly. Alexander put the papers up and then walked back to me. He kissed my cheek and held my hand.

I needed to continue to read that sonnet.


	48. Sold Out (Reprise)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jefferson is bad juju

“Mmn... Alex,” I grumbled. I looked at the clock from where I lay in bed. “Alex, stop...”

Alexander continued to kiss my neck. He was hugging me in bed from behind, hand moving down to my crotch. I grunted and pushed him away.

“Alexander, what the hell?” I muttered. He sat up quickly in the darkness. I could barely make out his figure.

“I-I’m sorry,” Alexander said quickly. “I didn’t mean to upset you, I just— sorry.”

“Alex.”

“Are you sure you’re not upset about the other day? When we had sex, I just, you’ve been acting strange since.”

I sighed and rubbed my temples, sitting up as well. “Why the hell do you care so much? I’m fucking fine.”

“I just don’t want you to be upset.”

“Stop lying, I know there’s something. What is wrong with you?”

There was a beat of silence. His tone suddenly became very defensive. “Nothing is wrong with me.”

“Something is bothering you. Come on, what— why are you so worried about this sex thing? It’s been at least a week and I haven’t shown any sort of resentment for you! What’s the matter?” I leaned forward and grabbed his hand. He pulled away quickly. “Alex, what the hell?”

“I-I’m sorry, I should’ve just... just let you...” he trailed off. He stayed silent.

“Alexander, you’re worrying me. How am I supposed to help you if I don’t know what’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

“That’s not an answer.”

“God, I just...“

I hummed impatiently. He wouldn’t talk. “I don’t understand. What am I supposed to do? You ask me constantly if everything is fine, if I’m fine with what we’re doing, and I say ‘yes’ and that isn’t enough! You literally did everything right and you won’t accept that it’s enough!”

“That’s the thing, I didn’t do everything right!” he argued. 

“How?! You treat me like some fucking fragile flower, which I’m not, and you’re careful and affectionate and that’s not right? How is that not right?”

“It’s not right because— God, if it upsets you then you should have just fucked me! Take control of me as you want. As you’ve always wanted. Then, it would’ve been right for you!”

“What?!” I shook my head, astonished as I scoffed. “I don’t want to ‘take control’ of you! I didn’t, because I don’t care that much! I just wanted to feel love with you and you did that! You did exactly that! You could have forced me a long time ago! You could have just done it without asking if it was okay, but you didn’t! You could have taken Jefferson’s suggestion and hit me to try and make me subordinate all this time but you didn’t!”

“What the fuck do you mean by that?!”

“That thing, that thing Jefferson said when he tried to fucking rape me when he was drunk! He said to hit me next time we have sex because I’ll like it or whatever.”

Alexander stayed stoic, then realization hit him. He breathed out a short, bitter laugh, and began to laugh more after that. He buried his face in his hands. I couldn’t be sure if he was crying or laughing.

“Alex, what are you laughing at?”

He just chuckled and sucked in a breath. “He said that to you. Not me.”

“...What?”

“He was fucking telling you to hit me. He likes seeing me in pain,” Alexander shook his head and I heard a definitive sob between the laughs.

“What? Why would he say that to you, he thinks you're the one raping me—”

“No. He thinks that, yes, but,” he sniffled and looked up at me. I just barely saw the pale moonlight from the window in his glassy eyes. “He... when we used to have sex, he used to hit me. A lot. That’s why he said that, he said I’d like it. He was trying to get to me.”

I didn’t have a response. I slowly took his hands again, and this time he let out another breathy laugh and cry as he collapsed forward onto me.

“I never told anybody that.”

“I’m so sorry, Alex.” I pulled him closer, protectively. “I wouldn’t do that to you.”

“I trust you,” he whispered into my chest, letting out another short cry.

“I wasn’t acting indifferent because of the sex, the sex was good, okay? I just don’t like being woken up past midnight for sex. When I’m more awake, maybe we could try it again,” I kissed his head. It was definitely my turn to show him how gentle I could be with him. He’s clearly more fragile than he lets on.

“I’m sorry for crying about this. I didn’t want you to know.”

“Know that Thomas Jefferson is an asshole?” I hugged him closer. “I already knew. Now I just hate him more.”

“I think you hated him as much as you could after everything he’s done to you.”

“No. I hate him for what he did to you. I hate him so much. You deserve better.”

“Don’t care about me so much.”

“Not fair,” I nuzzled my face into his cheek, kissing him playfully. “If you care about me so much to hate him, then I get to care about you, too.”

• • •

"I would offer you a walk..." Alexander trailed off, "but..."

"But what?" I asked.

"But it's cold and... there are other people, other slaves, and I don't want to expose you to that."

He was right. First of all, it's freezing. That's what you get for living in upstate New York. Second, if we were to go on the streets, other people would see me. If we were to go to the gardens, other slaves would see me. Neither were appealing options. Still, suppose I hide away my whole life? Suppose I never left this house except for masquerades: my life would be miserable. I already couldn't stand being inside for so long now, but my whole life?

"It's okay," I hummed. Alexander hadn't said anything yet of the poetry. 

"Thomas will be here again today," he sighed. My eyebrows knit together.

"Pardon? I didn't think you'd let him back here, after..."

"I don't want him back here, John. I'm angry at what he tried to do to you... and at what he did do... But I need him to not expose me and therefore he must visit. If he finds one thing to go off about, I'm doomed." Alexander ran his fingers through his hair that was down at the moment. 

"I understand," I mumbled after a moment. I did understand, even if I was reluctant. Of course, I wished it were some other way. Was there any possible way to change the way it was now? Unlikely. 

Alexander sighed and smiled at me sorrowfully. I could see it in the way he smiled that it wasn't genuine happiness. I could tell by now. Since he rarely smiled, it was special when he did. This time it wasn't a happy smile. 

"Alexander?" I looked up from my feet. 

"Yes?"

"When will Jefferson be here?"

Alexander thought for a moment before answering. "Soon, why?"

I glanced at the clock and back at Alexander. "No reason," I paused and took a deep breath before walking towards Alexander slowly. "I just feel like it's been a while since I've kissed you."

Alexander raised his eyebrows and laughed a bit. He pecked my lips and I put my hands on his hips. For a moment we just stood there in comfortable quiet. We kissed again after a while and I fell in love with his lips all over. 

"I trust you, Alexander. Now, do you trust me?" I murmured.

"John," he began in a whisper, punctuating the sentence with a kiss to my cheek.

"Alexander."

"Yes, I trust you," he said at last. It sounded hesitant but I shrugged it off. 

I smirked and grabbed him by the arms. "Good."

I pulled Alexander to the bed and pushed him down. He tried to wrestle me for dominance but I fought back and kept him pinned on the bed. "John—"

"Shh," I put a finger to his lips and began to kiss his neck. Alexander hummed and grabbed onto my ponytail, holding firmly. He pulled gently and I parted my lips against his collarbone, letting the kiss in that one spot turn into more. I sucked and kept the skin between my teeth, Alexander pulling harder on my ponytail and moaning. 

Eventually I pulled away and smirked at him, proudly gazing upon the red mark I left behind. Alexander had his eyes closed, fingers still tangled in my hair. I eventually just collapsed on top of him and held onto his shoulders, my legs on either side of him.

"We should get downstairs," Alexander hummed. "Be sure lunch is ready for Thomas..."

"You're serving him lunch?" I asked quietly.

"Yes.”

“He doesn’t deserve to eat. Ever.”

“Babe, I second that.”

For a moment, we both froze. I just smiled and kissed him. “Babe. I like that.”

“Slip of the tongue...?” he whispered, face red.

I nodded and kissed him on the cheek briefly before we both fixed ourselves up and went downstairs. His shirt collar and suit jacket covered the mark I left. Alexander didn't say anything else about it. 

"Should I be downstairs when he arrives, or...?" 

Alexander took a moment to consider this. He then replied, "Yes. If it gets uncomfortable you may go upstairs, but otherwise stay down here.”

"Do you want me to be with you or in the kitchen?" I asked.

"With me," he said, a short lack of confidence quivering in his voice.

I nodded and he kissed my cheek quickly. Not only was I pissed that I had to see Jefferson again, but I wanted to be able to slip upstairs and read the rest of that sonnet.

We waited around a bit more before he finally showed up. Martha took his coat and glanced at me before bowing her head. Jefferson tried to make eye contact with me but I kept my head down. If I made eye contact, I’d want to strangle him right then and there.

"Hamilton." 

"Jefferson."

The tension was real. It suffocated each and every one of us clearly. 

"Come sit. My slaves will be serving us lunch in the parlor," Alexander said.

"Very well," Jefferson nodded. Alexander grabbed my hand (though it was more my wrist) and lead me into the parlor. Jefferson followed close behind and I avoided his eyes. 

When in the parlor, I stood next to the sofa where Alexander sat. Jefferson sat on the sofa across from him. I took a moment to steal a glance at Jefferson's cheek, which still had a bit of a scratch from where I had scratched him after he tried to make me lie with him. Disgusting man. He did the same to Alexander...

"You cannot keep up this act forever, Hamilton," Jefferson growled. 

"What act?" Alexander asked solemnly. I kept my head down.

"I know you. I know this isn't you. You're not a real politician, Alexander, I know. You're falser than vows made in wine."

Alexander began to chuckle. "I am, 'falser than vows made in wine', hm? Never knew you read Shakespeare, Thomas."

Jefferson growled. Alexander smirked and I stifled a smirk of my own.

"Don't you—" Jefferson began but was cut off by Theodosia entering the room with a large tray, Sally behind her with two bottles of wine and two pristine glasses.

I tried to get Sally to look at me but her eyes wouldn't leave her hands. Though I got a look at Jefferson, who eyed her curiously. Theodosia set out the food, (two plates, mind you) and Sally poured the wine. Red wine for Jefferson, white for Alexander.

They left and Alexander mumbled something incoherently. Jefferson seemed unfazed.

"No matter what you want to tell yourself, Hamilton, I will always be better than you. Your position is still under the heel of my shoe; you are still in the same place that you were in Nevis," Jefferson sipped his wine.

"Fuck you, Thomas. I'm better than that. I'm a better man than you," Alexander rebutted harshly.

Jefferson chuckled and ate a piece of the chopped up chicken that was on the pasta. "You're hardly a goddamn man."

I cleared my throat, head still down from where I stood next to Alexander. "Mr. Hamilton, Sir?"

"Yes?" he answered.

"If I may be excused to do the rest of my chores upstairs, Sir?"

Alexander thought for a moment. Eyes slightly wide as he looked at me, he said, "No, come sit next to me."

“Sir,” I began hopelessly, teeth grit. I kept my jaw set and he didn’t make eye contact with me. Goddammit. I could understand why he would want to keep me close. I tried to understand why he wanted me to sit next to him, though. Why? Expose our relationship? Or, continue to plant the idea in Jefferson’s head that I’m only a whore? Maybe he was scared to be alone with Jefferson. Maybe he wanted to feel in control, still. Like he was worried I could forget my place and hurt him as Jefferson did. Maybe...

“John?” Alexander said expectantly, eyebrow raised. I snapped back to reality.

"Yes, Sir," I tried not to let my sarcastic side loose. Not in front of Jefferson.

I sat on the sofa; Alexander's hand immediately found its way to my hip, pulling me closer to him. I stayed quite still for a moment until he touched my chin, pulling my head to his shoulder. He was clearly making sure Jefferson watched this as he practically forced me to lean against him. 

“What the fuck, Alex?” I hissed under my breath in his ear. His grip on my hip tightened.

"I cannot believe you, Hamilton," Jefferson spat. "God gives you one face and you paint another, only to remove it the next day. What is wrong with you? Whose side are you on?"

"Not yours," Alexander answered. “And please, stop quoting Shakespeare. That poor bastard is squirming in his grave.”

"But you were once. You used me for political gain then you changed your mind.”

"No," he shook his head, "I did no such thing. I found reason in your political views; it was when you began to abuse your slaves that I saw what a hypocrite you were. What a hypocrite you are," he corrected, "and you tried to give me a slave as a gift to get me to stay with you!"

"Lies!" Jefferson hissed, "You're insane. How can I be the hypocrite when you are repeating my actions? When you began as a firebrand Democrat and ended up as an abusive Republican? You're no better than I."

"No better? I didn't get my slave pregnant, you ass! I don't hit my slaves!" Alexander's grip on me tightened a bit as he raised his voice. 

“Alex,” I mumbled in his ear.

"Don't hit your slaves?" he scoffed. "I watched you whip your whore, Alex!"

"Shut the fuck up! I may have h-hit him, but not like you did! You tried to rape him!"

"Me?! You've been sleeping with him! I know you've hit him when I'm not around, too. Which is so unlike you, considering you were so ready to jump the guns to take Sally from me."

Alexander took a deep breath. "You got her pregnant. She was only fourteen when that happened, Thomas! That— that poor girl!"

“Alex,” I whispered again, shifting my weight I put my hand on his shoulder and dug my nails into them. He seemed unfazed. 

"I was in love with Sally! You— stop changing the subject. This is about you and about how you've been laying with and hitting that man. You cannot accuse me of slave abuse."

"Slave abuse," he scoffed. "As if you cared about slave abuse. All you advocate is the rights of the people and the states, yet you turn your back on the people that man crushes beneath his boot."

"You're pathetic. Almost as pathetic as your fucking slave. You just don't want him to like me more than you.”

"He will never like you more!" Alexander yelled furiously. I closed my eyes and held my breath. "He is mine and won't ever be yours. What is wrong with you?!"

Jefferson began to sputter with laughter. "Look at you, Hamilton! Who is the one putting his whore on display? To prove to him, to me, that you own him, that he has no say in any of it! To show that all he is to you is a fucking toy! You put him there to show how ‘obediant’ he is or how much he thinks you actually love him! Can you imagine? Trying to sell a story to me because you know I'll expose you if you sympathize with that whore. You think I am an idiot, don't you?"

Alexander gritted his teeth, not looking at me still. I stared at his shoulder as he growled, “Yes, I do.”

"Well, I am nothing of the sort. I've seen what you've been doing. You've always been this way, Alexander. Never had the balls to discipline slaves. The soft spot only a weak man possesses."

"Get the fuck out of my house," Alexander whispered, shoving me away and standing. I winced and stood up angrily.

"I am going to ruin your political career, Hamilton—"

"You couldn't. I have those papers and proof of what you did. You can try to destroy my career but ultimately, I am on top."

Jefferson stood up and knocked over the red wine. He gritted his teeth and grabbed his coat. "This isn't over, Hamilton," he hissed venomously before storming out.


	49. Love or Pride

Alexander turned to grab my hand but I immediately pushed him away, getting off of the sofa and crossing my arms.

"John, what are you—"

"Don't do that again," I cut him off. "Stop putting me on display like your toy. I'm not your toy, Alexander. You don't own me.”

"Technically—" he began but once again, I cut him off.

"No— no, don't. This is not a goddamned joke, Alex! You don't own me. Maybe you own my labor or whatever that deed contracts, but you don't own my person. You don't own my mind. I get what you're trying to do, I really do understand. Still... don't treat me like that," I ended finally.

Alexander looked at me sorrowfully. "You know I was just trying to fool Thomas... right?"

"He's not an idiot. As long as that man has been in office—? I know he's not an idiot. Maybe arrogant and disgusting and a pathetic, groveling ass, but not an idiot by any means. He's right. He was obviously trying to get under your skin by doing what he did to me. Honestly, don't you ever use that mind of yours? Stop thinking with your pride and think with your sense. You can say you're protecting me but I know you well enough to see that you're protecting your name. Spare me of the excuses, already!" 

“John, I— I really, really wasn’t trying to... I didn't want to be a-alone with him...”

Alexander looked startled, to say the least. He reached out to grab my hand but I snapped.

"Don't," I hissed. "Think about your actions. I'm going upstairs to bathe."

He didn't stop me. I went upstairs quickly and rubbed my temples thoroughly before going to plug the tub and turn on the water. Swiftly, I slipped out of the bathroom and into his office without a sound. 

I was angry at him for how he treated me. I was, however, relieved that he stood his ground with Jefferson. Still, reading this sonnet was at the very front of my mind. I just had to.

I sifted through papers carefully before finding the familiar handwritten papers. 

What I had read yesterday, I reread so it was fresh in my mind.

“Each time his shrieks pierce—  
They do so with ice—  
So cold that it burns—  
in his bosom's demise—“

“I try not to be the cause of his pain—  
But each time he utters my name—  
I can't help but feel just a little distraught—  
In the knowledge that his heart is not mine to drop—“

“I toss and I turn but with every each night—  
The thought of his words still lingers my mind—  
What a stupid thing to say: ‘I love you’—  
When those words cannot possibly be true—“

This is where I had left off. I continued to read:

“And even if they were to uphold honesty—  
I could only deliver my thoughts on the policy—  
That he would forever be mine—  
And that I, his, with no further pry—“

Even if saying 'I love you' was true... then he could only say so if he was certain that we could be together.

“Why must the world be so unhinged?—  
It takes life's most beautiful things—  
Without another thought; here once, gone then—  
Leaving behind broken promises, yet when?—“

“When does this madness end?—  
This jeu de folie knows no amends!—  
It rips and it tears away the beauty—  
Until nothing is left... none truly—“

'Jeu de folie'... the French equivalent of, 'game of madness'.

“There is no way to ensure that I shall not—  
Further inflict upon him pain and distraught—  
Except to save him from heartbreak so real—  
No promises made; Pour toujours in steal.—“

'Pour toujours' meant 'forever'. In exchange for ever inflicting pain upon me, he would be forever saving me from heart break. But how? 

What exactly does this sonnet mean? He loves me but cannot say it... somehow to 'save' me. But how? Not letting my hopes get up for when he breaks my heart?

I never saw myself falling in love with a man. But as I have done it, I cannot stop loving him. My father already hates me; why not society too? They all see me as a Democrat pawn, an idiot who wants freedom and equality. 

Still, Alexander had his image to uphold. It hurts, sure, but I understand that. I respect him for that. We're not only endangering his career, but our life together. So, what now? Am I supposed to live enslaved by this house for the rest of my life? Chained down without a voice as somebody who I once pitied snd empathized with?

Yes, I love Alexander. Is he worth my pride? 

No.

No, he's not. But right now, there was no way to get my pride back other than to make him respect me.


	50. Surprise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s Christmas Eve

After reading the poem, I quietly made my way back to the bathroom. I stripped and got into the tub which was now full.

I tried to calm myself. I felt so anxious and I didn't know why. There's no way Alexander would know that I read the sonnet. If he did know, would he be angry? Most likely. I felt guilty— that's what this was. Guilty that I infiltrated his personal thoughts without consent. Still... I needed to know. It would have killed me not to know. 

After laying there a while I drained the tub and grabbed my robe, pulling it over my freckled body. When I got out, Alexander was standing in the bedroom, looking out the window. 

"How was your shower, John?" he mumbled, not looking back at me.

"Bath. It was fine," I answered simply. "Are you alright?"

"Fine, yes. I was thinking about what you said earlier," Alexander turned around and walked to me slowly. He put his hands under my elbows and looked at me intensely.

"What of it?"

"You were right. I should not have displayed you like that.” 

I felt relief wash over me. "Thank you," I said. This was progress to respect. And especially since he admitted he was wrong; that was a big step.

His hands moved up my arms and landed at my cheeks, resting gently. "I realize, now, what Thomas has been doing. Still, he may now try to expose us."

"With what proof? Alex, you have the real dirt on him. He has no proof that you and I have an intimate relationship," I reassured him, resting my hands on the back of his neck. He closed his eyes and nodded, letting out a big breath.

"You're right. I'm just anxious."

"Don't be," my hands fell to his waist as I pulled him closer, "I reassure you that your career will be fine."

Alexander let out a pitiful laugh and rest his head on my shoulder, his arms around my neck. "Thank you so much, John. Thank you..."

"What for?"

"Being here for me. Even though I don't deserve it... you're here."

I laughed humorlessly. "I don't have any choice though, do I?"

Alexander laughed too and just hugged me tighter. "I'm sorry. Thank you."

"Always."

• • •

That night I slept well, Alexander's body against mine. I woke up early the next morning without grogginess and got dressed before going downstairs.

"John. You're up early this morning," Martha laughed. She then added, "for once.”

I laughed quietly as well. "And I'm surprisingly in a good mood."

"Oh Lord, it must be witchcraft," she joked. "Want some breakfast? Theo and Sally are in the kitchen.”

"Sure. I was planning on bringing Mr. Hamilton coffee when he wakes up, too," I said, "I know Sally usually does it."

"Oh, how are things between you and the master, by the way? Would you say it's... romantic?"

I nodded. "Honestly? Yes. He's a good man when nobody else is looking, really."

"That's good. As long as he's not hurting you like that one time, though that was months ago. Oh, happy Christmas Eve, by the by!" She smiled, grabbing my arm and pulling me into the kitchen.

"Christmas Eve? Already?" I asked, eyebrows furrowed. Sally and Theodosia ceased their conversation and looked up at me from their breakfast. 

Sally began to laugh. "Uh, Yes?" she said between giggles.

"Damn," I laughed light-heartedly. “I suppose I should glance at a calendar every now and then.” I suppose I just felt so good today; I mean, Alexander was respecting me, I got to read his sonnet, and Jefferson was pretty much out of the way. Why wouldn't I be happy?

After breakfast, I brought two mugs of coffee upstairs. One for Alexander and one for myself, of course. He was already in his office.

"Alexander?" I came in, holding up the mugs. "I come bearing gifts."

"Oh, marvelous," he smiled. It was one of his genuine smiles that I would keep in a locket around my neck if I could. "Thank you."

"You're welcome," I said. "What are you working on?"

"Just going through some court cases. A woman recently filed for divorce and I have to support her in court. Nice lady, lives in the inner city. Don't know her too well. I have to go through all of these papers and whatnot so that she can have full custody of her child," Alexander went on and sipped his coffee. "Which is imbecilic since it's not even her husband's child."

"Oh?" I raised an eyebrow. "Do tell.”

"Mm, sorry John, It's le confidentiel.”

"Oh, come on, you've told me that much. Who have I to tell this to, anyhow?" I joked.

Alexander looked up at me and puckered his lips teasingly. I leaned down and pecked them quickly and he laughed, breaking away and looked back down at his coffee. 

"Well," he began, "if you must know, she was previously married. That man was the father to her child, but after she divorced him, she married another man. Her current husband also has custody of her child and has had full custody for two years now. The thing is, he's very unfaithful and abusive, as the story goes. My client says that her husband has threatened to take her child away from her— or worse— if she tries to file for divorce. So, as you can tell, this is a very complicated case.”

"Damn," I said, taking a swig of coffee. "That's good that you are taking this charity case."

"It doesn't make me too popular amongst other men."

"Well, it's the moral thing to do. And as if you weren't busy enough already being a freaking— I don’t know— Secretary to the president or whatever, but you’re also a lawyer. You have so much damn work to do.”

Alexander laughed. "Yes, except you distract me from my work all too often."

"Can't apologize, though," I smirked. We laughed quietly until there was a knock on the door.

"Yes?" Alexander called. 

"Mr. Hamilton," Martha opened the door and peeked in. "Miss Schuyler is here to visit."

"Peggy?" Alexander stood up from his chair. Martha nodded slowly. "Very well. I will be right down."

"Of course, sir," she said. Before leaving Martha snuck me a quick smile and a wave of her hand. Alexander grabbed his coffee and beckoned me to follow him downstairs.

When downstairs, I greeted Peggy warmly. But when I pulled away from the hug, another two women entered the room.

"Alex!" A woman with sleek, black hair smiled, hugging him. It was short and she had it curled just below her ears. Her headband was silver and went over her hair, her black eyes happy and smiling. The other woman had long brown hair that was pulled into a bun, an elegant feathery headpiece covering her hairline. 

"Eliza? Angelica? What are you two doing here?”


	51. The Schuyler Sisters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Work, work

"We got back from London yesterday evening." Eliza smiled. "It's been almost a year, Alex. We came home for Christmas."

"On such short notice?" Alexander asked. Peggy hit him in the arm. "Ouch!"

"Yes, we wanted to surprise you," Angelica smiled. She had rosy colored lipgloss that plated nicely against her dark skin and curly hair. It also matched the dress she wore, which was much like Peggy's in style but instead was pink. Eliza had nearly the same thing as well but with no visible lipstick and a blue dress. Though, her pink cheeks were very visible on her light skin. 

"Well, surprised I am," Alexander huffed. I stood there awkwardly, not knowing what to say.

”So...? Who's this?" Eliza asked, motioning at me. I swallowed the lump in my throat.

"My... maid..." he answered slowly, "John, this is Angelica and Elizabeth Schuyler. Peggy's older sisters." 

"Pleasure to meet you in person, Miss Schuyler," I held out my hand to Eliza. She took it and gave me a confused look.

"You're a man..." she said as though she were unsure. "Alexander, did you make him wear a dress?"

"Yes?"

"Oh my," Eliza huffed. Angelica also shook my hand and sighed.

"It's obvious he's a man," Angelica pointed out. "He's just... wearing a dress...?"

"Stop acting like it is so weird. You do not mind the dress, do you, John?" Alexander turned to me. 

"Uh..." Yes. I hate it. "It's fine."

I made a mental note to take this up with Alexander later. I slowly sipped my coffee and stood by. Was I jealous? No doubt. Eliza and Angelica hadn't done anything yet and already I was being territorial. Peggy warned me a while back that they'd be returning and then one of them had a 'thing' with Alexander. Angelica definitely looks like his type. Eliza looks almost too sweet.

"So is he your new maid then...? What happened to Martha?" Eliza asked.

"Martha cannot possibly clean this whole place herself, Eliza. John mostly cleans upstairs,” he coughed and Peggy snorted, “So— enough about maids, you two are back for Christmas? On Christmas Eve?" Alexander dismissed further questions quickly.

"Yes!" Angelica said. "We're at least staying for New Years, too. But work calls us in London, still."

"Uh-huh. And what do you do for work? You never specified before you left," Alexander raised an eyebrow. Peggy's eyes darted between her sisters.

"We both work on the trains as attendants," Angelica answered swiftly, rehearsed.

"I see."

"Father picked us up from the train station last night," Eliza intervened, "we stayed at his estate, though it's so far upstate in Maine that we wouldn't be able to visit you for Christmas!"

"Are you asking to stay here? Because I'm not sure that's the greatest idea," Alexander told her. I sighed in relief and sipped more coffee.

"Perhaps. Why not?"

"I will be working on Christmas anyhow and I am very busy! I cannot have you around distracting my maids and cooks and whatnot, it's completely unprofessional. Besides, don't you want to spend Christmas with your father and brother?"

Angelica, Peggy, and Eliza exchanged glances before Angelica answered, "We haven't seen you in the longest time. We're not unprofessional women, we can manage our own time."

"Seriously," Alexander cleared his throat. 

"Please?" Eliza begged.

Alexander took a deep breath and groaned. "Fine. But you must visit with your father after Christmas."

"Of course!"

I realized then that I was nervously chugging my coffee to the point of where it was all gone, yet I hadn't even noticed. This was a great way to ruin my happy day.

• • •

"Peggy,” I whispered, grabbing her arm. 

"Yes, John?"

"You could have given us a heads-up before bombarding us with your sisters?" I asked. 

"I'm sorry, I couldn't—"

"Oh my God!" I cut her off. "Where am I going to sleep?! Is one of your sisters going to sleep with him? Are they still together? Peggy!"

"John," she grabbed my hand and soothed me. "It'll be okay. Tone down your jealousy for a moment and attempt to think clearly. Angelica and Alexander aren't together."

“Then why did you warn me at the party? Say not to tell them about Alexander and me?”

Peggy sighed and put her hands in her dress pockets, looking down at the floor then back at me. I noticed how she looked at my nose rather than my eyes. Peggy answered, almost preprogrammed, “Because Angelica and Eliza don’t need to know. You haven’t told anyone else, have you?”

“Why?” I furrowed my eyebrows. “Just Martha, and...” trailing off, I decided not to mention my sister. That would open a whole can of worms. And Hercules Mulligan and Marquis De Lafayette... “—You. Although I wouldn’t doubt if Sally and Theodosia have caught on, they do live here, after all. I’ve only told Martha about it being explicitly romantic.”

“John,” Peggy sighed. “...You cannot let a secret like that get out. It has nothing to do with my sisters, but please, don’t mess this up. Don’t tell them.”

"...I will be right back," I mumbled, pushing her away and escaping the otherwise empty parlor. I ran upstairs and found Alexander in his office. 

"Come in!" He called after I knocked. 

"Alexander!" I shut the door behind me. He looked up immediately. 

"Yes?"

"Peggy said you dated her sister. Which one?" I asked. Alexander scratched his chin and sighed.

"Angelica. I'm not anymore though, you don't need to worry," he reassured me.

"Do I, though? Will I even be able to sleep in our bed while they're here? And if I don't, how will I know you won't be secretly sleeping with Angelica?" I worried.

Alexander for up from his chair and braced my shoulders. I looked at him skeptically. 

"John," he said quietly, "You don't need to worry. I wouldn't ever do that to you. And as far as you sleeping in our room? It's unfortunately so that the option will be temporarily unavailable..."

"But I don't want to sleep without you," I muttered, putting my head on his shoulder. 

"You'll be right in the slave’s quarters.”

"Thanks," I whisper, "...I think."

"It's just for a few days.”

"Just for a few days," I repeated under my breath.


	52. Merry Christmas

“Ladies, you may stay in this room," Alexander sighed. He had attempted to give the sisters separate rooms but they insisted on being together. While the spare room was large enough for the three women, the estate was large enough for them each to have their own rooms. It was fine by me, though. 

I didn't fully trust Alexander, which made me feel guilty. He was just able to do anything, really, whereas I was chained to this estate and I was chained to the clothes on my back. My thoughts were free but my lips were controlled. No matter how much I love Alexander, I'm still technically trapped. I supposed that I felt insecure in that he had more freedom than I.

That night after dinner, I had to remind myself that I wouldn't be following Alexander back to his office or our bedroom. The women went to their room and I went outside to the slave’s quarters. Alexander had already brought a bunch of my clothes over earlier so that I wouldn't have to risk sneaking in and out of his bedroom for clothes. 

I changed into a night shirt after showering and drew back the quilt on the bunk. The other men gave me no bother. I suppose they learned their lesson after Lee. It was somewhat chilly in the quarters— there were two fireplaces burning, and a man younger than I (still in his teens, I assumed) was sitting on the rug by the fire. There was another man, just about my age or slightly older, sitting next to him. Whether or not they were lovers, I wasn’t sure. 

After a while of lying there, I found myself unable to fall asleep. The clock on the wall read sometime after midnight...

I know that I shouldn't, but my impulsiveness got the best of me. I quietly snuck out into the snow-covered yard, then into the house through the kitchen door, and made my way to Alexander's bedroom. The door was luckily unlocked. 

I closed the door and crept to the bed, where Alexander was asleep. He looked so peaceful when he slept. When awake he always seemed indulged in thought, as though he couldn't handle the contents overflowing from his mind. Yet asleep, he was just Alexander. 

I crawled over him and he stirred, eyes widening as he met mine. I quickly put my hand over his mouth to stop him from from making noise and he squinted his eyes at me as I hushed him. Alexander pushed my hand away and looked up at me.

"John, what are you doing in here?" he whispered, "and what time is it?"

"Just a bit past midnight... I couldn't sleep. Can I sleep in your room tonight?" I whispered, shifting off of him and sitting next to him instead.

"What if somebody sees you?" He sat up in bed. I reached out and cupped his cheek. 

"Don't worry... I will leave early in the morning before the women awake. Nobody will notice," I hummed.

Alexander took a moment to consider this, his eyes darting around the dark bedroom. He took a deep breath and mumbled, "Fine. Lock the bedroom door just in case.”

I smiled triumphantly and walked to the door, locking it before returning to the bed. Alexander laid back down and I slipped under the covers next to him. He buried his face in my shoulder, hugging me closely. I wrapped my arms around his waist and let myself doze off.

It occurred to me the next morning that I hadn't set the alarm clock to wake me early. So when the sunlight was already glistening off the snow on the window sill, I took a moment to panic. I pulled away from Alexander and got up. He was still asleep.

I took quiet steps to the door and put my ear to it, listening for footsteps. It was already nine in the morning. 

I couldn't hear footsteps. Still, I was worried about risking it. How would I explain why I was sneaking out of Alexander's bedroom in my nightshirt? 

Wait. This gives me an idea.

I turned around and went to the closet, stripping and pulling on one of my dresses. I heard Alexander shifting in bed as I pull on my stockings.

"John? What time is it?" he mumbled.

"It's past nine," I tell him, pulling my hair back. I chuckled a little, "Merry Christmas?"

"Shit!" Immediately he jumped out of bed and ran his fingers through his hair. "You need to get out of here!"

I groan and grab his hands, planting a kiss on his cheek. "Don't worry, Alex. If anybody sees me in the hallway, I'll pretend I was cleaning or something."

"Those women aren't fools," he complained. 

"Stop stressing," I kissed him again. "You said Peggy is as close as a sister, right? If her sisters find out I'm sure she won't let them expose you or anything.”

“But they don’t know that I’m a—“ he stopped and hugged himself, brushing his hands up and down his arms, “they don’t know I fancy other men.”

I sighed, running my fingers through his hair, “Is that really what you’re worried about?”

“I don’t know.”

“It’s going to be all right, Alex.”

"Fine," he huffed. I pulled away and slipped on my shoes before slowly opening the door. It didn't sound like anybody was out there.

Of course, as soon as I close the door, I turned around and was met with none other than Eliza.

"Oh! Good morning, miss!" I smiled innocently.

"Good morning— John, right?" She asked. 

"Yes," I nodded, "Elizabeth?"

"Yes— uh, pardon my asking, but what were you doing in Alex's bedroom?"

"Checking in, seeing if he would like some coffee," I told her. 

Eliza nodded slowly, as if she didn't believe me. Shit. She's not even here one day and she's already on to me? "Are you sure?" 

"Yes, of course, why wouldn't I be?"

"You seem a bit anxious."

I shook my head. "Miss, I should be getting onto my chores."

Eliza nodded and I slipped away, taking a deep breath before going downstairs. Angelica and Peggy were in the kitchen talking to Theodosia and Sally.

"Where's Martha?" I asked. 

"Merry Christmas, John," Peggy said. "She's in the parlor, I believe."

"Thank you.”

I left the kitchen and found Martha, who was dusting the chandelier in the parlor.

"John! Good morning," she smiled. 

"Hey, Mar. Uh, can I talk to you?"

"What about?"

I swallowed hard and looked at her. "About the Schuylers. Can you promise not to say anything?"

"Of course. What about them?"

"Were you Alexander's slave when he was dating Angelica?"

"Nope,” she answered. 

“But... Angelica and Eliza seemed to know you.”

“Phone talk, letters from Mr. Hamilton.”

I huffed. "Well, do you know anything about them?"

"Other than what everybody in America knows? They're rich, pretty, intelligent, and feminists. I pretty much have the same knowledge as everybody else," she told me. "Why? Are you worried that one of them might try to take your man?" She joked.

"Martha," I spoke quickly. "Hush, don't say anything about that."

Martha continued to laugh and she lightly hit my arm. 

"Okay, maybe I'm a little insecure. Eliza started asking me questions when she saw me leaving Alexander's bedroom this morning—"

Martha cut me off. “Pardon, what’s this about his bedroom?"

"Not like that. I was just sleeping in his bed. That's besides the point, though. She kept questioning me and I don't think she believed me when I said I was going to bring him some— oh, shit!" I nearly shouted. 

"What?"

"Coffee! I need to bring him some coffee so it doesn't look suspicious!" I ran out of the room. Martha called after me.

"Nice chat, John!" 

I quickly poured some coffee in the kitchen, where I could tell that the girls were looking at me curiously.

"What's the rush?" Angelica asked. I stirred the coffee quickly.

"I need to bring Mr. Hamilton his coffee," I laughed nervously, holding the tray in front of me. I turned to go but Angelica grabbed my elbow.

"Wait a moment. Your name is John, correct?" She asked.

"Miss, I don't have time to talk," I pulled away from her and hurried upstairs with the coffee.

I rushed up the stairs and opened the door to Alexander's bedroom, where he was in a bathrobe, the shower in the bathroom running. I closed the door behind me. His hair was dry; he hadn't gotten in yet.

"John," he said, "uh— what are you doing back in here?"

"I had to bring you coffee," I panted, leaning against the door. "I seriously cannot get through with anything! These sisters are so skeptical. I brought you coffee to justify being your room after Eliza stopped me in the hallway.”

"I was just about to shower.”"

"Then I'll drink the coffee," I suggested.

"Um, no?" He reached for the mug but I pulled it out of his reach. I glared at him and took a swig of his coffee. His eyes went slightly wide as he grabbed the coffee out of my hands.

"Hey!" I complained. "Alex, that's mine!"

"No, I thought you said it was mine?" he teased. He took a sip of it and I grabbed it back out of his hands, coffee spilling on my dress. 

"Oh my God, look what you've done!" I said, setting the coffee aside on the nightstand. Alexander began to wipe at the coffee stain on my white apron but I pushed his hand away. "Imbecile, you don't wipe stains."

"Hey! Take that back!"

"No way. It's your fault, you were so aggressive with the coffee!" I shot back, "—now I have to change out of this dress,"

"I could help you with that," Alexander smirked, hands wrapping around my waist and pulling me close. I pushed back on him, hands on his shoulder, chuckling as I backed him against the wall. I loved how easily he melts when I take control. 

I leaned forward and put my lips to his ear. Alexander's hands rested on my hips, keeping my body against his as he stayed standing, back to the wall. 

"John—" he mumbled quietly.

"I've got to go downstairs before anyone gets suspicious, Alexander," I hummed in his ear. Alexander grabbed my thighs and pulled me up into his arms. I wrapped my legs around his waist and rest my hands on his shoulders. "Aw, come on! Seriously!" I complained.

"Hush, you know you want to," he teased, pushing me on to the bed. I began to laugh uncontrollably as Alexander sucked on my neck. It tickled more than anything. I swatted at him, laughing.

"Oh my God, Alex! Stop! Fuck off!" I laughed, tears forming in my eyes. "Ugh! I hate you!"

Alexander pulled away and I curled up, hugging my knees to my chest, somehow still laughing though he ceased the tickling. He flopped down next to me and huffed.

"You don't actually hate me though, right?" he mumbled, taking my hand. I smiled uncontrollably.

"Of course not," I pecked his lips, "but for real now, I have to go.”

"Fine," he huffed as I sat up. He did the same, quickly pecking me on the lips and smiling. "You owe me, though.”

I stuck my tongue out at him and laughed. "See you later, Merry Christmas.”

"Bah, humbug!" Alex smiled. God, I love his smile...

I slipped out of our room and headed back downstairs, trying to force myself to stop smiling by biting the inside of my cheek. Eliza wasn't in the kitchen still, though the other women were. 

Angelica gave me a suspicious look. 

"I'm back. Now, Miss, you said you needed to ask me something?" I turned to her. Peggy looked up from the book she was reading and opened her mouth to say something.

"Yes— uh, you just looked in such an anxious rush to bring Alex his coffee," Angelica said. 

"Ange," Peggy cut her off, giving her a glare. Angelica shook her head.

"Never mind," Angelica huffed. “Laurens, right?” “Yes.” “You were arrested for treason.” She had said it more like a statement than a question, though it was obviously she was inquiring. “Slave sympathizing,” I corrected. “Isn’t that treason?” “No,” I said pointedly. “I don’t believe so, Miss. I consider it to be doing America a favor.” “By helping criminals flee the country?” “Yes.” “So, do you not like the slave life?” “Why—” I paused, confused by the pointed accusation. I glanced to Peggy, who wasn’t much help. Her eyes were telling me something I couldn’t understand. She shook her head slightly. Angelica noticed I was looking beyond her, so i quickly looked back at the woman before me. “No, Miss, of course not. Why should I?” “Hm.” Her eyebrows drew together. She was suspicious of something. 

"John, there's pancakes on the stove if you would like," Sally hummed, changing the subject.

I got myself a few pancakes and sat at the table in the kitchen. It was a wonder that these wealthy women weren't eating a full breakfast in the dining room; instead, they ate meager amounts, chatting with the cooks.

Eliza came into the kitchen after a while and grabbed Angelica by the hand, mumbling something incoherently to her. The two slipped out of the room. 

"Where are they off to?" I asked Peggy. Peggy shrugged, setting her book aside.

"I'll go see," she told me. I had finished my pancakes by now. I put my plate in the sink and poured a cup of coffee for myself, stifling a laugh at the reminder of mine and Alexander's dispute over coffee earlier. 

Peggy returned a moment later. "So?" I asked.

"Eliza just needed help with— you know, feminine hygiene," Peggy said a bit carefully. 

"As in—"

"Yes."

Sally, Theodosia, and Peggy began to giggle a bit uncomfortably. Oh.


	53. Ignorance Is Bliss, But Knowledge Is Power

I frustratedly looked through Alexander's papers in his office. He was downstairs currently, prompting Sally and Theodosia to bake... well, something or another for Christmas dinner tonight. While it was still Christmas, nobody seemed to be in the holiday spirit. 

Still, it was better than home where we did nothing festive but read the Bible and vow our praise to whatever God was up there. This Christmas has nice people who don't care about that shit, so I'd say it was pretty good.

I needed to see if there were any more poems to me. 

At last, I found one under a stack. Again it was hand-written and the handwriting was very messy. I blinked a few times to focus on the poem.

“Do not hold me to blame—  
For the confession I do not dare to name—  
For truly, I mean no harm—  
By not letting him into my arms—

I fear for his mind—  
And what may occur—  
If the promise uttered by my lips—  
Could somehow differ—

My promise could not uphold—  
The glares from outside—  
I do not dare to lead on—  
Thus destroying his mind—

If only he knew—  
Just how much the love concurs—  
Each time he whispers the promise—  
That he'll forever be sure—

My dear Laurens, —  
I could have said this to you—  
Had I been certain—  
For I—“

What's the last part? Why did he leave it blank?

My heart began to race. Why? Why had he not finished it? 

I nervously read over the poem a couple of times to interpret it. It's so much more difficult to do so when you fear that you are biased. I don't want to assume he's saying something he's not.

Still... is this confession that he loves me, once again, but is afraid to say so for he fears that I may stop feeling the same? No... that something else will happen, and I shall be let down.  Either way, he's afraid.

I wiped my watering eyes and set the papers aside. I had to go downstairs before he got suspicious.

"John, did you finish cleaning?" Alexander asked when I came down the stairs. He was talking to Peggy separately from the other women. 

"Uh— yes, sir," I said. 

"Good. Dinner should be ready in about an hour," he smiled. Oh, my God, his smile. I felt guilt rise in me. "As a treat, ensued by Eliza, I will be offering feast to the other slaves as well."

"Well, aren't you in the Christmas spirit?" I raised an eyebrow. Before I had said this, of course, I made sure nobody else but him and Peggy could hear. Peggy began to giggle and Alexander glared. I laughed as well. "Lighten up!" I told him. I turned to Peggy with a sarcastic smiled, “Don’t you just love the Holidays?”

“Alex certainly does,” she teased.

“Of course he does. He loves them so much that he’s willing to share food! Isn’t that nice?” I turned to Alexander, who was beet red and trying to look away. I put my index and middle finger under his chin and pulled his gaze towards me. “Do you like the holidays?” I whispered. He looked away again. “Come, look me in the eyes, Alex.”

Peggy burst into a fit of laughter.

“What’s so funny?” Alexander jerked his face away from my hand.

“John is beating you at your own game,” Peggy raised her eyebrows and flashed a grin, laughing and trying her best to stifle it. I just smirked at Alexander who aggressively tried to hide his embarrassment still.

“Lighten up,” I blew a kiss at him playfully, putting a hand on his tie but he pulled away again.

"Mhm, lighten up," Peggy joined, laughing more. Alexander just tried to hide his red face and stormed off. 

"I'll go after him," I tried to stop laughing. 

"Yes, go get your Christmas 'Ham'," Peggy moved her eyebrows up and down.

I laughed, following Alexander upstairs. "Alexander, come on."

"No. I don't want to talk to you," he mumbled, going up the stairs. I went up after him.

"You're being so immature!" I complained, taking his hands, “Alex.”

"Immature?"

"Yes!" I laughed a little as we tumbled into his office, my hands on his hips. Alexander grabbed my waist and kissed my neck as I closed the door behind us with my foot. He pressed me back against the door, though not roughly.

I pushed back and wrapped my arms around his waist, pulling him with me to the floor. We went tumbling down in a mess of quiet laughter, interrupted every couple of seconds by playful kisses. I was on top of Alexander on the thick rug, but apparently he didn't like that, so he fought with me to flip us over and begin kissing my neck. 

"Alexander," I hummed. His kissing of my neck and his grasping onto my body were just the slightest bit rough— I’d be a liar if I said I didn’t like it. "What if somebody finds us?"

"Hush, they won't. That's half the fun, isn't it?" Alexander smirked, going back to sucking on my neck. I let out a pained moan at the sensation, followed by a breathy laugh.

"Alexander!" I yelped, "Ah— don't do that."

"Why?" He smirked a bit. I stifled a laugh and ran my fingers through his hair.

"It could leave a mark," I complained. ”and it tickles!”

Alexander shrugged and went back to sucking.

"No, not now!" I whispered. Alexander ignored me and continued to kiss and suck my neck, holding my wrists down on the floor. "No!" I called. I bit my lip and tried not to laugh, feeling a rush of blood pumping through my body in love and excitement.

Alexander began to pull away, opening his mouth to say something in reply when suddenly the door burst open. Eliza let out a slight yelp and covered her mouth.

"Alexander, get off of him!” She demanded, her hand going into her pocket.

"Eliza," he stood up. I pushed myself up, watching carefully.

"It's— it's not what it looks like," Alexander said. Eliza glared.

"Not what it looks like?" she scoffed. "I saw you on top of him, holding him down.” 

Alexander reached out to hold my hand but Eliza snapped at him.

"Don't you touch that man," she angrily said, beginning to pull something out of her sweater pocket. I saw a slither of the small object, though I was unsure as to what it was. 

"It's not like that," Alexander reassured her.

"John?" she asked.

"It really isn't. We have sort of a relationship, Eliza," I mumbled, stepping up next to Alexander. Eliza took a moment to consider this, her hand disappearing again in her pocket.

"Then why do you hide it from my sisters and I?" Eliza asked suddenly.

"We can't risk other people knowing. You can figure it out," Alexander huffed.

"Fine," she stopped her glaring and gave me a look. It was a sympathetic look. Her hand came out of her pocket, bare, as she clasped both of her hands together in front of her. "Alexander, if I find out that you are lying about it—”

"He’s not— we’re not. It's okay," I interrupted. Eliza just nodded slowly and turned to leave. When the office door closed behind her, Alexander and I were left standing in awkward silence. "Lex, do you think we'll be okay?"

"I hope so," he murmured, hugging me. 

“Peggy, she told me not to let her sisters find out. And she warned me and scorned me for clueing in Martha.”

“Martha knows?”

“How could she not know?” I mumbled against his neck, “She’s intuitive, I’ll give her that. Her and Peggy both. And Eliza and Angelica.”

Alexander rubbed my back, lips against my shoulder, “These women...”

“I know, they’re all smarter than us,” I joked softly, “Peggy is especially intuitive. Did you ever tell her about you and I?”

“No, I didn’t, why?” he asked. I thought back to the first few parties I saw her at, then thought about the things she said, and then the last time I saw her at the party with the whole Jefferson fiasco... I opened my mouth to speak, but nothing came out.

“Alex... Is this a bad time to tell you something?” I pulled away and touched my hand to his cheek. 

“No, it’s not, what’s the matter?”

I shook my head, stroking his face, “Nothing is wrong, I just— do you remember the masquerade ball?” He nodded. “I saw my sister there.”

Alexander’s eyes widened slightly, “Sister?”

“Patsy. Er— Martha is her name, we call her Patsy, never mind it. But she’s the girl in the purple dress I waltzed with in case you saw us. And when I told you I went to the bathroom, I really was just sneaking away to talk to her in private. I told her about you and me because I trust her and she’s my sister, and I wanted her to know that everything was fine and that you’re not cruel and you won’t hurt me,” I paused, taking a breath, as I was unable to read Alexander’s face. I went on, “and then we parted ways. I don’t know why I didn’t tell you, I-I had no reason to hide it, but I was afraid you’d be angry.”

Alexander blinked and sighed, drawing in for a kiss. I pulled away and hugged him again. 

“Sorry,” I said, “I don’t know why I’m sorry but I am.”

“Don’t be.”

“What of Eliza? We can’t have all these people finding out about you and I— shit.”

Alexander held me tighter, “What?”

“Mulligan and Lafayette know as well. Goddammit, we are failures at secret relationships,” I kissed his ear.

"Your sister is your sister— I assume she will keep secrecy for your sake. Mulligan and Lafayette are my friends and I trust them as well. Martha— it’s not as if she has anyone to tell, right? And as for Eliza, she won't tell anyone... she's not that sort of a person."

"I'd pray not. I don't want to have to leave you... ever," my eyes darted to the office door. I could make out the shadows of feet underneath and I sighed. 

"I'd die before that'd happen," Alexander reassured me.


	54. Partiality & Bias: There’s a Difference

The sisters left the next morning. They were all very nice and pleasant guests, but I was relieved to be able to love Alexander again and sleep in our bedroom. After they left, I followed Alexander upstairs and pinned him to the bedroom wall. Alexander kissed me passionately and ran his hands down my sides. I held onto him, making sure that I remained in control.

I liked being in control. It made me feel so much more secure. Still, I knew that Alexander liked to be in control as well. He pushed against me and hugged my body into his. I didn't give in; I cupped his face and kissed him with more roughness, keeping him against the wall. 

Eventually we broke away, panting and laughing in one another's embrace. He rest his head on my shoulder from where we stood.

"I've been waiting two days to do that," he mumbled.

"Oh my God," I laughed, squeezing him even more tightly. I just held on to him. “We would be so awful at ever being apart. How have I lived two decades of my life without you? We can’t go two days, let alone two years or even more extreme, twenty,”

"I love hugging you just as much as I love kissing you, if not more," Alexander added after a moment.

"I love hugging you, too," I answered. "I love you,"

"John, I l—"

His sentence was cut off by a knock on the door. Alexander pulled away and went to the door. "Yes?"

"Sir," Martha began, "Somebody is ringing you on the landline. They said—"

"Who is it?"

"I don't suppose they said their name, Mr. Hamilton,"

Alexander sighed and rushed out of the bedroom, going into his office and picking up the landline. Martha left and I watched intently as he answered.

"Yes, hel— oh, Lafayette! Bonjour! ...No? ...He did what? No!" Alexander paused and gnawed his lip, "Why? ...He cannot be serious. Between all of the— yes, I know, but— ugh. How did you find out? ...No, I haven't read the paper yet... shit, Lafayette. —No, I'll be sure to put a stop to it. What does Adrienne say about this...? ...Oh. Of course. Yes, yes, au revoir,"

He hung up. I braced my arms. "So?" I inquired. Alexander sighed and rubbed his temples, ignoring me and walking out of the room. I followed him as he went downstairs. 

"Martha, has the paper arrived yet?" He asked. 

Martha looked up and nodded. "Yes, sir—"

"Why was it not delivered to me, then?" Alexander asked coldly. I touched his arm lightly. He sighed, "Never mind, where is it?"

"In the parlor, I ap—"

"No, it's fine," he turned away and rushed towards the parlor. I followed him once again where he picked up a newspaper and began reading. 

"Alex? What is it?" I put a hand on his arm and he froze. Alexander just handed the newspaper to me slowly, not looking at me.

I took it and scanned the page until something caught my eyes.

 

•THE REPUBLICAN TODAY•  
~~~

•SENATOR JEFFERSON OF VIRGINIA PROPOSES NEW DEATH PENALTY LAW: IS IT UNPATRIOTIC?•

Last Wednesday, December 23rd, Senator Thomas Jefferson proposed a controversial new law in a congress meeting. Jefferson and other Republicans are unanimously in agreement regarding the proposed law, but it sparks debate with many across the board. 

The law would cover three felonies: the death penalty would be given to, "men who sympathize with American traitors," as well as, "men who commit first-degree murder, and men who commit the practice of sodomy." (Jefferson, Federal Court Statement) In other words: slave-sympathizers, murderers, and sodomites. It was made clear that his regard to sodomy was targeting what many abolitionist groups call “homosexuals,” which are individuals who engage in sodomy with others of their own sex.

Current laws imprison people who commit these felonies, many prisoners of which get sold and serve out their sentences as servants. As for homosexuals, many people have started underground groups to freely practice sodomy. Police forces attempt to disband these groups who call themselves, "activists".  The activist groups worry that this new bill will endanger their beliefs. In the words of a spokesman for an anonymous activist group, this bill "undoes hard work" that their people have, "courageously fought for these rights [...] it would be cruel and unusual punishment, directly violating the eighth [8] amendment of the Constitution."

While most of the federal legislation agrees with this notion, many are fighting back. Citizens have accused police of using force against protesters in New Jersey. The alleged police force claims that they "threatened" to use force as the protesting began to "get out of hand". (Chief of Trenton Police Department) People are looking to call upon Secretary of Treasury and slave-owner Alexander Hamilton, to see whether or not he supports Senator Jefferson's notion. 

The young secretary, at only 20 years old, had immigrated to America from the Caribbean when he was only fifteen. Since then, he has built his fortune through the slave trade and in a political career with Jefferson. Hamilton converted political parties halfway through his career. This worries many of his former political allies who claim he is, "unfit to found [his] opinions"  and does not possibly know the "values of the American way". 

One outspoken man, while undecided on the Death Penalty Bill, is John Adams, a former supporter of Hamilton. He claimed that Hamilton hid a "superabundance of secretions" when he first ran for office. His wife, a feminist, also dislikes Hamilton. She claimed to have seen the devil in his eyes.  

In addition, one particular claim by Adams stated that Hamilton was under the influence of drugs, specifically opioids. A statement released on September 30th, 1920 by Adams: "Hamilton can barely function without his drug usage. The man would not be able to utter a word if not for his opium."

While these claims were never backed with evidence, it is still very relevant to today. Many enemies of Hamilton use this theory against him in debate.

Adams is very adamant in not allowing Hamilton to have a decision in this matter. As for Hamilton's views on this bill, none have yet surfaced to the public, though various sources give contradicting information. We cannot be certain until Hamilton himself releases a statement, however. 

There are multiple rumors of both Hamilton and Jefferson engaging in sexual acts against their slaves. While this is not illegal nor uncommon, many citizens disagree with the actions. Violence against slaves is not illegal, simply frowned upon.

Again, no sources have confirmed these rumors thus far. 

~~~

 

"Holy shit," I whispered. "Death penalty? For homosexuals and slave-sympathizers?" 

"That fucking son of a bitch," Alexander breathed. "I knew he was going to do shit like this. The devil is in my eyes?! What the hell kind of statement is that?! A-and the opium! I don't use opium, I've never so much as touched—!"

“Alex, this article is clearly biased,” I put a hand on his shoulder, “anybody with half a brain could see it,”

“Shit,” he muttered.

I just stayed silent. This meant so many things. What would happen to us? We'd have to be ten times more careful. At least, at first, we couldn't be killed for it if we were discovered.

"What will happen if this bill gets passed?" I whispered.

"I-It won't. I won't let it. I don't care how much I had to fight, John, I'm not letting this happen. Washington won't let it... the people trust Washington. Washington trusts me. I'll convince him, John, I will. Nobody is going to take us apart," he hugged me. I hugged back, laying my head on his shoulder. He buried his face in my chest and embraced me closer.


	55. Outburst

"I'm going to have to say something eventually," Alexander sighed. We just laid on the sofa of his office, his body curled against mine. I kept my arms around him protectively. It was as if all of his confidence was fading at the thought of losing me.

"What will you say?" I asked him.

"I don't know. I'll have to approach gingerly. If I say something too brash, Jefferson will no doubt try to destroy my career. As well as all the other Republicans. They make up lies about me, John, they say—"

"I know, Alex," I say, "I know."

"Adams told people I use drugs," Alexander huffed angrily. "The nerve!“

"It's okay," I sighed. "If you support this bill, though, then it'll no doubt get passed."

"Right. This is so fucking messed up," he groaned, grabbing on to my shoulders and hugging me. He sounded exasperated. 

After a moment of hugging I pulled away, holding his shoulders. Alexander sighed and wiped his eyes. 

"I don't want to lose you, Alex," I mumbled. Alexander cupped my cheek and just nodded, face twisted as he tried not to sob.

"I-I'm sorry for crying, John... it's dumb—"

"No, it's not. It's okay to cry,"

"But you don't even cry that much," he sobbed. "Not when I hit you, not when I threatened you, you were strong... you still are. You're stronger than I will ever be and I hate you for that,"

"It's okay," I pulled him back into my chest. He was so vulnerable and weak... it scared me a little. 

"I don't want to lose you either," he cried. "I'm sorry for being a child about this,"

"Having... emotion doesn't make you a cry-baby or a child. It doesn't make you weak. I learned that,” I paused and let out a quivering breath, “the hard way. I spent too long pretending I could be stone-cold and without emotion. But then I grew up. Alex, you're a young man with a big heart. I don't care that you have a façade to appear strong or that you pretend to be hateful of the world. I know you, and that's not you," I made sure I didn't cry. Seeing Alex cry made me want to cry. He looked so sad when he cried. 

"I'm weak," he choked out another sob, covering his face. I wrapped my arms around him as tightly as possible.

"Hey," I whispered. "You're not weak. You managed to stay strong this long, right?"

"So?"

"I have a feeling that you've got that fight left in you, Alex. Never give up hope. Never lose courage,"

"Never lose courage?" His voice wavered. "What, did you tell yourself that so that you could suffer through my abuse?"

"Hey—"

"I'm not like you, John. I-I'm cold and a coward. You suffer every single day with me,”

“What are you accusing me of?”

“I-I'm terrible, John! I've called you names and I've hit you! Maybe it's best if they take you away from me!"

"Alex, what are you saying?" I pulled away, slightly disgusted. Alexander wiped his teary eyes and grit his teeth, not looking me in the eyes.

"I'm saying that you deserve better! I'm not good enough for you, John, and I never will be. If w-we get the bill passed then I could just... expose Jefferson, he'll expose me, and I'd be put t-to death. You and Sally would go somewhere better. You'd be away from harm... away from me,"

"Alexander, stop!" I snapped. "Stop saying shit like that!"

"Why?! You want me to be courageous and strong when my whole life could be ripped away from me?!" He spat, cheeks red.

"No! That's not what I'm— ugh! You're so difficult!" I screamed. We had both stood up by now, heated in the moment. "I try to fucking comfort you—”

"I tried to make it clear that I don't need comfort!" Alexander screamed back, flailing his arms. 

"What the fuck is wrong with you?! I comforted you because I love you, Alexander! And you have never, not once said it back!" I yelled. I was too angry to cry over this shit.

Alexander began to yell louder with the slightest bit of hesitation. "I-I tried to tell you to stay away! And what did you do? You fucking slithered your way into my arms! You forced yourself into my bed!"

"What?!" I hissed. "You're so dense! You offered! Y-you had sex with me! Why am I the perpetrator?!"

"I don't want to love you! You're just trying to make it out to be that way!"

"You and I both know that's not true," I wiped my eyes. "You fucking self-centered asshole! Why do you always, always, let your ego come before your feelings?!"

"Just because I don't fucking want your stupid tears and your relentless begging—"

That's when I snapped. I slapped him across the face, harder than I intended. I hadn't intended to slap him at all, actually. I just wanted him to shut up. I watched the tremor of his hand as he held it against his face, glaring back at me. Without another word he swung at me, landing a hit to my jaw. 

I groaned and held it in pain. I think it's the hardest he's ever hit me. Of course it is. Since this time it's fueled by some sort of legitimate anger, and not just what he tells himself he has to do. 

When we both back up and pant, holding our faces, we take a moment to look at one another. There's ten times the tension in the air than there originally was. 

I finally spoke between pained breaths. "Fuck— you— Alex—"

"John, I—"

"No," I didn't let him finish. I grit my teeth. "You asshole. I tried to console you. I loved you,"

"Loved?" He looked up at last. His eyes were glistening. I didn't reply. Alexander covered his mouth and crumpled to the ground. I turned for the door. "J-John, where are you going—?"

"I'm sleeping in the guest room," I said. I needed to get away before I broke down. 

"N-no, please, I need you," he whimpered helplessly. Alexander attempted to hide a sob.

"We need time apart. Just, get your shit together," I muttered. 

Alexander moved quickly and got in front of the door, holding his arms out. “No— no, you can’t leave,”

“Alex,”

“I forbid you from leaving!” He screamed, breaking into another cry. His eyes were angry but his voice was pleading. “Don’t go, you can’t go,”

“Move out of the way,” I told him. Alexander grit his teeth. 

“No,”

“Alexander,” I growled under my breath, shoving him out of the way. He stepped back but grabbed my sleeve weakly, ending up letting go anyway. I slammed the office door behind me and ran into our bedroom, grabbing some clothes and running back into the guest room down the hall. I locked the door behind me and looked at myself in the mirror.

I began to tear off the dress and the stocking and I ripped out my hair bow. I screamed angrily, these stupid clothes. I'm not a girl. I'm not his maid. I'm not a fucking slave.

I stared at myself in the mirror, tears rushing down my face. I crumpled to the floor, just wearing my underwear. Rebel strands of my frizzy hair stuck to the sides of my face, captured in the tears. I look awful.


	56. Folie

I didn't feel like doing much of anything. After I pulled on a long nightshirt and pants, I turned off the light and laid in the bed, too exhausted to get under the covers.

What was I feeling? I was hurt, and sad, and angry, and confused. I just wanted it all to be over. 

I woke up to knocking. 

It took me a moment to respond, so the knocks came a second time. I couldn't find the words. "John?" 

It was a feminine voice. Sally. 

Still, I didn't get up. 

After a fourth knock, she left. I had gotten under the covers of the bed and wrapped the blankets around me securely. I wished the sun didn't shine through the curtains so much. I wish I hadn't hit Alex. I wish I didn't love him.

I couldn't even cry. God, what was wrong with me?

How much time was passing by?

I forced myself out of bed. I couldn't do this anymore. I didn't even bother getting dressed, I just needed to see Alexander. Even if I was just in underwear and a shirt. Quietly, I unlocked the door and walked down the hall. He would most likely be in his office right now, answering phone calls. I opened the door and he wasn't in there. The phone was ringing, however.

"Hello?" I answered it, seeing as nobody else would.

"Is this Hamilton?" A voice said. Obviously a reporter.

"No. This is his estate. Mr. Hamilton won't be taking calls now, goodbye," I hung up. I left the office and went into his bedroom. The door, luckily, was not locked.

What had I expected when I came in there? A desperate, needy Alexander begging me to come back into his arms? An angry Alexander who didn't want me to ever come back again?

Alexander was sleeping. I looked at the clock. It was already one in the afternoon, why was he sleeping?

"Alex?" I whispered. His eyes were open. "Alex?" I approached gingerly and put an arm on his shoulder. "Alexander, I see that you're awake,"

He just blinked, rolling over in bed and pulling the covers with him. 

"Alex, this isn't funny. Don't ignore me. I-I'm sorry, okay? I’m sorry I hit you, just please... wake up already," I felt my voice waver slightly. I sat down next to him on the bed and he didn't move. "Alex, please,"

Still, Alexander said nothing. I could see his breathing. He just stared at the wall, wrapped in blankets. I sighed and laid down next to him, wrapping my arms around him. 

I think I could have fallen asleep if I wasn't so focused on the rhythmic ticking of the grandfather clock. Alexander didn't move. He didn't talk.

"Alexander, please," I whispered desperately, grabbing his shoulder and rolling him over so he was facing me. He looked right through me. I shook his shoulders, a bit upset. "Alex, answer me! Stop ignoring me, this isn't funny!"

He just laid there. Eventually, he rolled back over, pushing me off of him. I got off of the bed and began to pace the room. I turned to the bed, grabbing the covers and ripping them off of him. He just laid there, curled up. 

"Alex!" I yelled. 

He grunted a little bit, still just staring at the wall.

“Why won’t you answer me?” I pleaded. He made a small noise, resembling a groan. I glared. "Fine! I don't need your bullshit," I huffed, storming out of the bedroom.

I went into the office, going to dial Peggy. What was her number again? Alex had it written down next to the phone. Unfortunately, the phone wouldn't stop ringing. I picked it up off the receiver.

"Hamilton Estate," I said, trying not to sound angry.

"Yes! Is Alexander Hamilton there?"

"No, sir. Mr. Hamilton isn't taking calls," I groaned, hanging up before picking the phone back up and dialing Peggy's number.

"Hello?" A feminine voice said. 

"Is this the Schuyler residence?" I asked.

"Yes, who is this?" 

"I need to speak to Peggy," I said urgently. The voice sighed and I heard a muffled yelling before another voice spoke into the phone.

"Peggy Schuyler speaking. Who is this?" She asked.

"It's John. I-I think there's something wrong with Alex," my voice slowed to a whisper.

"Something wrong? What do you mean?" She sounded a bit worried.

"He's just laying in bed and he won't acknowledge me. He stares at the wall a-and won't answer me at all, I'm worried,"

"How long has he been doing this?" She whispered.

"All day as far as I know. We had a fight last night and I slept in the guest room," I mumbled.

"I'll be right over. Try to get him to eat something," she said urgently.

"Will he be okay?" 

"Yes. I'll be over," she mumbled. The line went dead. I sighed and went back to the guest room to get dressed before going downstairs. 

"John," Sally said. "Are you okay? What— what are you wearing?" 

I glanced down. "Pants," I said. "And a button up with a waist coat... isn't that what men wear?"

"Mr. Hamilton isn't making you—"

"No! I'm okay. I'm just going to bring some oatmeal and eggs to Alexander if that's alright," I answered hastily. Theodosia looked concerned.

Theodosia heated up some food while I ate an apple. She handed it to me, along with two cups of coffee. I nodded to her in thanks before taking it upstairs.

"Alex?" I whispered. The covers were still off of him. "I brought you some breakfast,"

He didn't respond. I set down the tray and held both of our coffees, sitting next to him on the bed. 

"Alex... come on, don't stay mad at me. I brought coffee for you! Why won't you eat? Please, Alex, don't do this to me. I'm sorry," I whispered, setting the coffee aside and laying down next to him. I hugged him close. "I'm sorry,"

•••

"John," Peggy sighed. "He still hasn't eaten?"

I got off the the bed, kissing Alex's head briefly and going to stand in the doorway with Peggy. I thought I was going to break right then.

"He won't answer me," I explained. She wrapped her arms around me. 

"It's okay,"

"What's wrong with him? Is this my f-fault?"

"No," Peggy grabbed my hands, "John, it's not your fault. You did nothing wrong. H-he just... does this sometimes. The doctors don't know why exactly but Dr. Hosack thinks it's something called 'manic depressive psychosis'. Still a fairly new concept but it comes from 'folie à double forme'. H-He has episodes like this... it'll pass, John," 

"B-but why?" I felt tears coming to my eyes. The shorter girl leaned up and wiped them. 

"We don't know. All we can do is wait,"

"It's my fault," I said. "I hit him l-last night and I left... I told him to sort himself out and now he's laying there, not moving because of me!" 

"John, it is not your fault. We don't know how to help this but it's nothing to do with you," Peggy sighed. She pulled away from me and walked to Alex. "Hey, Alex?"

He didn't answer her so she sat on the bed next to him. She held his hand. 

"Alex, it's me. John and I are really worried about you, hun. We love you," she leaned down and kissed his forehead. "Try to eat something, alright?"

Peggy pulled away. She glanced briefly at the uneaten food and sighed.

"Peggy, will you please stay?" I whispered. "I don't want to be alone here today,"

“What about the other women downstairs?”

“Martha is busy, I hate to bother her. She doesn’t understand this,” I motioned around the room and sighed heavily, completely disregarding the two other girls, “perhaps she does, I wouldn’t know. But you are like his sister, good company,”

"Of course," she mumbled. "You said you had a fight, was it about the death penalty bill?" 

"Yeah, I guess," I huffed. 

"What happened?" We walked out of the room and downstairs to the parlor. I sat next to her. 

"He just started yelling at me for no reason... and saying awful shit that wasn't true. I couldn't take it anymore and I slapped him. Then he punched me—"

Peggy cut me off. "Yes. There's a bruise forming on your jaw,"

I laughed bitterly. "I'm never seen without a bruise or something, am I?"

"Alex isn't like that."

"No, I know, I just," I couldn't stop myself from laughing more. I fell into Peggy's arms and began to cry. She just held me soothingly.


	57. I Love You

I woke up in the morning, three days later, to see Alexander coming out of the bathroom. His hair was wet and he was wearing a robe. He showered.

“Alex,” I whispered, not sure what to say after that. I stood up, whether with the intention to slap him or hug him I didn’t know. He didn’t say anything to me, he just stared, lips slightly parted. I grabbed his shoulders, “Alexander,”

When he didn’t answer I tried not to break down. I felt my blood boil and a lump form in my throat. 

"Three days, Alex!" I hissed, "You stayed in bed for three days without eating or— or drinking or talking to me!" 

Alex just covered his face and stared at the floor. He didn't say anything else to me.

"The phone has been ringing for three days. Everybody wants to know what you think of the bill," I sighed at last. 

Alexander pulled away and took off his bathrobe. He got dressed and left the room. 

Three days of trying to get him to talk to me and this is what I get? Him randomly coming out of the shower in the morning with nothing else to say to me?

I sighed and got dressed myself. Alexander was in his office, answering the phone.

"I don't have anything to say on the matter," he said. I watched him carefully. He looked... normal, again. Somehow. Yet somehow I still saw him and he looked different. As if knowing something was wrong with him was making him different.

After he hung up the phone his eyes wandered to me in the doorway. I sighed and walked towards him, but went to sit on the sofa instead. He went back to answering the phone.

"I have to go," he told me.

"Go where?"

"To my work. I need to talk with Washington at the White House and I need to get this shit cleared up," he whispered.

"Okay," I stood up. He grabbed his jacket and rushed for the door but I quickly grabbed his tie, pulling him towards me. I pecked his lips and he left, eyes slightly wide and cheeks pink.

I went downstairs after I saw him leave. Sally was rolling out some sort of dough.

"What are you making?" I asked. She looked up, a bit of flour on her cheek. Theodosia giggled and wiped it off for her.

"Cookies. You notice how Mr. Hamilton hasn't had any parties in a while?" She asked.

"No, not really. Perhaps he's just been busy, what with that new bill in—"

"Bill? What bill?" Theodosia interrupted.

"You... you haven't heard?"

"I haven't seen Aaron in at least two weeks... not to mention, we don't have any other outside connections," she mumbled.

I nodded, understanding. "Well, there's a new bill that Mr. Jefferson has proposed. It already got through the Virginia legislature and the Federal court needs to approve it. Anyhow, it would mean the death penalty for slave-sympathizers, homosexuals, and murderers," 

"Oh my Goodness," Sally whispered. "That— that's horrible!" 

"I need to go talk to Martha," I told them before leaving the kitchen. I found Martha in the parlor, reading a newspaper. She looked startled when I came in but sighed when she realized it was me.

"Jesus, John, you frightened me!" She hissed.

"What are you doing?" I asked.

"Reading the news. I always do so, especially when Hamilton is out," she told me. "Can I trust you?"

"Yes, of course?"

Martha took a deep breath, setting the newspaper down. She looked at me worriedly. "The way I see this bill, you have two paths. Neither of which you get to choose, necessarily,"

I hummed, drawing my eyebrows together. 

"First path? It gets passed. Hamilton has no choice but to endorse it. You two have to immediately stop sleeping together and having connections because if anyone outside finds out, Hamilton will immediately be put to death. That puts all of us in danger, John. We all will get resold to wealthy people who are cold and vile. We have it really good here, John, what if that gets taken away? What about Sally?"

"What's the second option?" I asked, feeling like my chest was tightening.

"Second?" She sighed, "The bill won't get passed. Hamilton will vote against it. Yet then, colleagues will hate him more. His enemies will try to drag him down, slit his throat with political slander, and take away his slaves. They'll accuse him of slave-sympathizing, of homosexuality. They may not put him to death, but your lives would be a living hell. Any chance of Hamilton having a political career would be destroyed,"

I covered my mouth. I felt like crying. "Why is the world like this? Why does it have to be cruel?"

"I don't know,"

I steadied my breathing and looked at her. "What did you do to get arrested, Martha?"

"Libel," She exhaled.

"Libel?" I mumbled, repeating. "I know I have to do the right thing but... letting Alexander go..."

"I know," she sighed. I hugged her hastily. She let out a startled noise, hugging back reluctantly, and pulling away. She put a hand on my shoulder and slowly smiled. “You know... you look much better in that suit than in a dress. I don’t know what Mr. Hamilton was thinking,”

I chuckled sadly, “Neither do I,”

• • •

"John, I'm so sorry,"

I woke up; it was almost one AM. I heard Alexander's voice next to me. He just kept repeating it over and over again. 

"Alex?" I turned over in the bed. I had fallen asleep last night without Alexander in bed. Now I was holding him in my arms, though I didn’t remember when he got home. 

"John, John, I’m so sorry," he whispered again. "I shouldn't have hit you, I—"

"It's okay," I soothed him. It was too early for me to think clearly. "Alex, I forgive you,"

"Please hold me, John," he mumbled, grasping my hand in his. "I need you,"

"Please don't do that again," I muttered, wrapping my arms around him. He buried his face in my chest. 

"I'm sorry,"

I held him closer. I didn't want to let go. What was wrong with him? Why had he stopped talking to me for a whole day? I know Peggy said it wasn't my fault but I couldn't help but feel it was. I've never seen him like this before and it happened suddenly when I fought with him.

"I don't want to lose you," he whispered. "I-I know I haven't said it before but I love you. I love you so much and I meant to say it so long ago but I was scared and I— I don’t know what wrong with me. I’m sorry. I love you,”


	58. Finale

"Alex..." I began. I had frozen in my place. He said it.

He finally said it.

"Why?" I whispered. "Why are you saying this now? After we fought—? Are you just trying to make things better, make me forgive you because you know that's what I want to hear?"

Alexander stayed silent. He held my hand even more tightly and hugged my chest.

"No, John. No. I do love you... I know I shouldn't be forgiven for what I've done and I know that you don't deserve to be treated this way by me. I'm not saying that just to say it... it's for real. I do love you a-and I'm afraid,"

"What of?" 

"I'm afraid of losing you," he whimpered, "I'm afraid that... that something will happen and you'll be taken from me and you'll never get to hear me say it. You'll never know. If I lose you—"

"You won't lose me," I interrupted. Was I going to cry as well?

"I don't regret a second of it. I don't regret loving you," he whispered. "I don't care what happens to us after this world but I know I love you,"

"I love you too," I said at last. Then I couldn't help it. Tears began to pour as did words. "Alex, I love you so much. I don't care about the rest of the world when I'm with you. I don't care about what happened in the past, I just love you. And that's enough, right? W-we're enough... you're enough. Whatever happens, I won't stop loving you. Ever,"

"John," his voice cracked. He broke; he sobbed and trembled, embracing me.

"I can't lose you, Alex," I whispered. 

"I love you, John. I— I'm so sorry I never said it before, I was just afraid— afraid that you'd reject me or that I'd lose you. But now I know... I know that even if I lose you, it'll still be true. I will still love you and nobody can change that. I'm so sorry, John. I'm so, so, sorry," he sobbed. He clutched onto my shirt on my back, holding on to me as if at any given moment I'd just disappear. "I thought t-that I could make you not love me but somehow... somehow I couldn't. I tried to keep you away so I wouldn't hurt you, but... oh God,"

"Shh, shh, it's okay," I soothed through my more docile tears, burying my face in his neck. "Alex, it's okay. It's okay. It's... it's okay,"

"I don't want to lose you—"

"Shh..."

"I-I don't want to—" his voice cracked again and the sobs broke out. I just continued to mumble. I have to comfort him. Seeing him like this... it was so heart-breaking. No matter what he believes, he's not cold-hearted. There's just a protective layer of armor.

"It's okay, Alex," I repeated again. His sobs quieted after a while and we both fell asleep.

• • •

"P-Peggy?" Alexander blinked. Peggy began to pace the bedroom. I pulled away from Alex and looked at his tear-stained face and messy hair. What time was it? It's still dark.

"You two need to get up," she whispered. "Get dressed— in normal clothes, John— and come downstairs,"

"What? Why?" I sat up. Alexander grabbed my hand.

"Just do it!" She snapped before leaving the room. I got out of bed and Alex tossed some dress pants, a shirt, and a tie at me. Both of us scrambled to get dressed without a word, neither of us knowing why.

"Alex?" I put on the dress shoes and began to tie the blue tie. 

"Yes?"

"Do you know what—?"

"No," he mumbled. 

"Alex, what happened at the office yesterday?"

He sighed and ran a comb through his hair. We stood in the bathroom. I brushed my teeth.

"It's only five in the morning," he mumbled.

"Alex, what happened at the office?" I repeated.

Alexander looked at himself in the mirror. I stood next to him and began to brush out my hair. He sighed and looked at me in the mirror. "I voiced against the bill,"

I wasn't sure if I should be glad or not. Not after what Martha said yesterday. So, I just hugged Alexander. We shared a slow kiss. It was the slowest kiss, one that lingered for an eternity that only felt like seconds. It was desperate and sad. As if it were goodbye.

"I love you," he whispered after pulling away. I held on to his arms.

"I love you too,"

Alexander's dark hair was pulled back into a tight ponytail. His eyes were sunken in and he looked tired. We were up until late last night, of course, so mine were as well. I just sighed and pulled my hair back into a ponytail before pulling a suit jacket over my shoulders. Alexander's clothes fit me rather well, as they did at the masquerade ball. He must know I’ve been wearing his clothes for the past few days. After our fight I couldn’t take it anymore and I just wore normal clothes. Much to everyone else’s surprise, of course.

“You look handsome,” he mumbled in my ear.

I kissed him one more time before we went downstairs, him in front of me.

In the foyer stood at least seven or eight people. I recognized most.

I saw Burr, the Schuyler sisters, (two other women standing behind them), Hercules, Lafayette, President Washington, and another man who I did not recognize.

"What is this?" Alexander spoke slowly. 

"Alex, the secret services are going to arrest you," Peggy spoke. She stood next to her sisters.

"Secret services?!"

"We're helping you. We're going to get you somewhere safe so they can't,"

"What? How do you—?"

"We're part of the AAL. My sisters and I, Hercules Mulligan, Patsy Laurens, and Martha Manning," she spoke. I looked around quickly and spotted my sister who stood next to Martha. 

"Patsy," I spoke. I immediately ran into her arms, hugging her like there was no tomorrow.

"Hi, Jacky," she whispered. I pulled away and felt tears in my eyes. After blinking them away I backed up.

"You— you're what?" Alexander looked startled.

"Spies, Alex. We're spies," Peggy said, looking down.

"Herc, you too? Laf, did you know?!" Alexander sounded upset. I braced myself. I was upset too. 

"Non," Lafayette said, "I am just as newly informed as you,"

The unknown man stayed silent.

"Explain what's going on. Right now," Alexander demanded. Eliza spoke up.

"The AAL is an underground resistance. American Abolitionists' Legion. There's hundreds of people in it who work as spies, collecting information. It's one big underground network. Myself and my sisters included," Eliza said. 

"So this whole time, all you've been are spies?!" Alexander spat. 

"Our friendship is more than that, Alexander... and we weren't spying against you. We were spies to help you," Peggy told him. “The reason we’re able to help you is because John here is a loud mouth. Manning knew about the relationship as he directly told her, his sister knew the same way. I know from Manning, as you are quite oblivious to your slaves using the telephone, Alex. Mulligan, of course, knew as well. The word spread around the agency— sparking mixed feelings, of course— but with my sisters, your slave, John’s sister, and your friend and I, we were able to convince the AAL to allow us to escort your to safety,”

My eyes widened and I looked over at Alexander. He mirrored the same look. The look that said ‘How are we such idiots?’ It was so obvious. All of the sneaking around, the too-good-to-be-true intuition, the time that Peggy picked a lock with her hair pin? I was angry at myself for not realizing something was up. My little sister! She was at a masquerade ball, sneaking around, in New York! She’s from South Carolina, how am I so stupid?

“Burr,” Hamilton turned to him, “what about you? What business do you have here?”

“I suppose it’s because I’m your friend, as is Lafayette,” Burr answered. “Look, despite our petty feuds, I do wish safety for you,”

"Patsy— how long have you been a spy?" I softened my voice. My own sister? I was very oddly proud. 

"Not too long after you were arrested. I vowed to get you back, Jacky. I promised. I had an old friend, Manning," she motioned to Martha, "that I knew got arrested for libel. Or what the FBI, or UFBI, claimed as libel. There's much more too this, but the thing is, you need to get out of here,"

“Jacky,” Alexander said under his breath next to me, and I hit him lightly on the arm. He cleared his throat. "And who are you?" Alexander asked the unknown man.

"I'm a higher up in the AAL. We're going to smuggle you out of here before the UFBI arrests you," he answered. 

"What's the UFBI?"

"Underground Federal Bureau of Investigation. It's the most corrupt branch that works for the government. It makes sure people are staying in line and uses illegal methods to do so. There's more, but Miss Laurens is correct. We need to get you two out of here," he informed us.

"You mean to say that we can stay together?" I whispered.

“Wait,” Alexander cut in, “Your Excellency, Sir, what are you doing? If you knew about these underground forces—”

“I did not know of the UFBI,” Washington said. “I knew of the AAL. I have done everything in my power to ensure your safety, Hamilton, which is extremely difficult might I add as you are consistently presenting your neck to the chopping block,”

"About staying together,” the unknown man spoke, “we seek to help people in situations like these without discrimination. Whether you're homosexual or not does not matter. As for staying together? Too dangerous. You will meet at the Mexican border on the other side of the Río Grande. For the drive you will take separate vehicles. We will work to be sure you will end up together,"

"Work? So you don't know for certain—?" Alexander asked, eyebrows drawing together. “And why Mexico? Canada is closer,”

“Mexico is in a post-civil war state at the moment. The possibility of the American government searching for and arresting you there is much more meager. And Hamilton, we will do everything in our power to make you two end up together," 

Alexander grabbed my hand and took a step back.

"No. I don't want—"

"It's far too dangerous to export you together. We are very efficient in our smuggling, Hamilton. I ensure you that Mr. Laurens will be safe," the man said slowly.

"Who are you?" I asked.

"Nathanael Greene. You may simply call me Greene," he answered.

"What about Maria Reynolds? I'm supposed to be supporting her in court—"

"I'll do it, Alexander," Burr interrupted. "And I'll buy your slaves as well,"

Alexander ran his fingers through his hair.

"Goddammit,"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woah what a plot twist, right?
> 
> How’d you not see that coming?
> 
> Okay so I know that there’s fanfic logic and stuff but I greatly avoided that because this plot twist was planned from the very beginning, my friends.
> 
> Oh, yes, right, that’s the end of this book. I’ll post the sequel, which is currently in progress.
> 
> Thank you so much for reading my crappy fanfiction!! I adore and appreciate you all!!


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